Attraction
by arwenforlife
Summary: Mercedes Jones must confront the darkness of a past that has shaped her young life. She finds it hard to let people in and has trusted very few people. Living under the name M.J, she has been able to keep a low profile, however, she has finally found a place to call home. Enter Sam Evans, who keeps forcing her to open up and as a result, her walls are crumbling one by one.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, this is my first time writing for glee. I fell in love with this couple about a year ago** **and I have decided to try my hand at writing them. I thought that their relationship was very mature and could've stand the test of time. It's a pity that TPTB thought it fit to let things end the way it did. I know that they were end-game, and they cut that from the script, but for persons like me, I actually wanted to see it happen. They were beautiful together and had great chemistry. This story is slightly based on the book The Obsession by Nora Roberts. Some of the dialogue and scenes are taken from the book, but I have put my own spin to it. This is also the first time for me writing a story based/slightly based on another person's work. Here goes...**

 **I do not own glee nor it's characters. I am also not affiliated with Little Good Harbour. I also do not own The Obsession, it's the property of Nora Roberts.**

* * *

It hadn't been impulse.

Twenty-eight year old M.J assured herself of that as she roamed the ramshackle old house on the bluff.

Maybe it was a little rash, or even a gamble, but she had taken many gambles before...so what if she took one more?

As she quietly moved from room to room, it dawned on her that she had bought a house. A very old house, ancient even, on the opposite side of the country away from everyone she knew.

A house that needed work, lots of it...hours upon hours of cleaning, and of course furniture.

 _"This was an investment,"_ she told herself, as she walked through the less than pleasant kitchen with its cracked linoleum floor.

This will be a huge project, something that will indeed keep her busy and her mind occupied, now that she wasn't working.

* * *

As she tried the faucet, it coughed and spewed out fits of water, with that, she decided to make a list of things to be done.

She took out her phone from the back pocket of her tight jeans, and entered _Plumber_ as the first thing on her list.

She added more to the list as she moved from the kitchen to the dining-room, which had a wonderful fireplace carved in dark wood.

In that moment, she realized that she didn't just buy a house, she bought a huge house, with six bedrooms, four-and a half baths, and a total of three fireplaces.

Closing her mind off of that thought, she decided instead to think about how she was going to work on it and get it together.

* * *

As she walked the creaky stairs, she tried to shake off the overwhelming feeling that was slowly taking over her mind, she concluded that it definitely wasn't impulse...it was lunacy.

 _"Why did I move here?_

 _Why did I tie myself to this remote place and why in God's name did I let myself be weighed down by this anchor of a dilapidated house?"_

All of these questions floated through her head as she walked pass musty walls and beautifully carved doors, knowing that there were too many rooms for one single woman.

She felt an old familiar pressure in her chest...the onset of an anxiety attack. She began to take slow deliberate breaths as her feet took her to the master bedroom.

* * *

It was huge, bright and airy.

Of course it needed work. The floors, the walls...which were awfully faded and the old glass sliding door, that she would definitely get rid of, all desperately needed attention.

She tugged on the slider, which grudgingly opened and stepped out onto a wide opened deck.

"This is why," she whispered, as she took in the view.

It was breathtaking.

There was a small inlet, a deep shining blue, split into knots of green land...indicating that Spring was on its way.

Shorelines ascended, bordered by trees as the water travel out through a narrow channel into deeper blues.

In the distance, mountains rolled up against the sky, as a back-drop for a thick forest of green shadows.

The bluff wasn't that high, but it afforded a pure, unobstructed view of water, sky and land, and for her...an indescribable sense of peace.

 _"This_ _is my place,"_ she thought as she leaned against the railing and inhaled...deeply.

Whatever needed to be done to make the house habitable, she would see it done.

No one could take this view, this sense of hers away.

* * *

She took her phone and captured the beautiful sight before her and sent it to some very important people in her life.

Her 'sister' and self appointed protector Santana Lopez, and her two best friends Kurt Hummel and Tina Cohen-Chang.

God she missed them...so much.

As soon as she whip the house into shape, she will have them come to spend some much needed time together.

If anyone looked into her contacts, they would see these names listed under the caption, "My Family."

Attached to the photo, was a very simple message,

"This is why," it read.

As she put her phone away, she decided to go into town and get some supplies.

* * *

The little town was active and anyone could tell, it made its living off the water.

There was a marina, a dive shop, a kayak rental and a fish market.

She spotted the lone hotel called Little Bay Hotel, which faced the marina with its bobbing boats.

She had stayed there for a few nights when she first came to Little Good Harbor to upgrade her music portfolio.

The hotel was a quiet peaceful place and it gave her much inspiration, whilst she basked in solitude.

On her second day there, she had caught sight of the house as she looked out of her hotel window. She was amazed and intrigued by the way it angled away from the town and beckoned towards the water and the woods.

She had asked for directions, just to check it out and before she knew it, she was on her way there with Realtor William Scheuster.

Now it belonged to her.

* * *

As she loaded up her food, cleaning supplies and other much needed stuff, she smiled at the good fortune she's had, whilst shopping.

She managed to acquire the name of a contractor and called him right away. He would be at the house in an hour's time to do an assessment.

With no time to dawdle, she headed home and started the task of cleaning the refrigerator.

* * *

By the time she had finished and stocked it, a vehicle pulled up outside.

Hearing her name, she went out to greet her visitor.

"MJ?" The man in a ball cap asked, as he walked to her with his hand out-stretched.

"Yes, that's me," she answered.

"Dwight Evans," he said.

She took his hand briefly, taking in his appearance.

He was tall, probably in his late forties, very early fifties, sandy hair peeking out from under his cap, strong jaw and well built.

"Nice to meet you," she said as she lightly squeezed his work-roughened hand.

"Thank you for coming," she followed up. He smiled, a little lopsidedly.

"I heard someone from back east had bought the place. It's something isn't it?" he said. Agreeing with him, she replied,

"It's something alright." He grinned and shifted his weight.

"It's been empty for over ten years...since the owner died. It used to be a B and B, but..."

He was politely cut off by her saying,

"A big place like this, probably needed a lot of maintenance."

He placed his hands in his pockets as his gaze traveled the length and breadth of the house.

"Exactly," he replied.

* * *

After their small talk, they took the house room by room and the list grew further.

The contractor had great ideas, some a lot similar to what she had thought up.

She concluded that he knew what he was speaking about...he knew his job like the backs of his hands.

The most important thing was that he knew exactly what she wanted.

He excused himself shortly after their room by room perusal, to go out and get his tape measure.

By the time he had finished his second assessment, she had put away her supplies and poured them both some soda. They drank on the front porch, as they watched the sun burned its way down through the trees.

She turned to him and said,

"So..."

Mr. Evans smiled genuinely, his green eyes twinkling and said,

"I will work out an estimate for you. When I bring it, you might want to be sitting as you read it."

She didn't think anything different.

This was a big job, but she had a strategy. She looked up at him and said,

"When you do, let's talk about priorities...you know, like the stuff that can be done right away, and what can wait a bit."

* * *

Mr. Evans looked at M.J with pride.

It was something akin to how he would look at his daughter. He could see she had a good head on her shoulders.

"Good idea. I have the name of a great landscaper you can check out whilst you're reeling from the estimate," he said as he handed her the empty glass.

"Wonderful!" She replied. Placing his hands back into his pockets, he said,

"If you give me the job, I'll do great work for you." Extending her hand to him, she smiled and said,

"I believe you will." Mr. Evans shook her hand once again and said,

"I appreciate the chance to look the place over M.J, I'll be in touch."

She watched him drive off and felt the silence fall just like the sun behind the trees.

* * *

Next morning was spent on her old hobby, photography.

This turned out to be the norm as she spent that time taking pictures of beautiful sunrises, the water, birds and trees.

Her afternoons were usually spent perusing second-hand stores and flea markets.

She found many items on these treks and her bounty included, lamps, desks and chairs and rugs.

On evenings she would settle for a sandwich, or something simple like scrambled eggs with wine, and try her hand at a new song.

To keep cash flowing, she would sell her photos on line to an art gallery in New York.

It wasn't her main source of currency, her bread and butter came from selling songs to record companies who were signing new artists and looking for great writers.

She knew she had a voice.

It was one of the many talents the good Lord had blessed her with.

Alas, the spotlight is the last place she wanted to be. All because of ** _'him'._**

A man she thought the world of and who was as perfect as any human could be. This man shattered life as she knew it and almost caused her to lose complete faith in family.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she refused to cry. She would never cry because of him again.

* * *

She looked around her room, this house was hers, made possible by the trust fund her generous grandparents had set up for her.

She missed them...all of them.

"I need to visit them and sing for them," she said quietly.

Both sets of her grandparents were gone.

She hardly knew her father's parents, they died when she was five and seven respectively.

Her mother's parents were the ones she had a special bond with, they were the only people besides her "family" that she would sing for.

They went when she was thirteen and eighteen respectively, and she always sang to them when she visited their graves.

With a heavy heart, she started her nightly ritual to get ready for bed.

* * *

It was nearly a week later when Dwight returned with the estimate.

He arrived with his sixteen year old son Stevie and their dog Seiko.

The boy was a younger and thinner version of him, from the way he smiled to the way he stood, but very shy.

"We were on our way out, so I decided to drop this off. You should probably sit and take a shot of the strongest drink you have before you read it," he said.

Taking the envelope M.J asked, "That bad?"

With a sigh, he said, "Yeah...well...like you said, we can look at our priorities. Take some time to look it over and think about it. Whatever you decide to do, I am with you one hundred percent."

M.J was floored, but also extremely curious.

She gave her thanks and headed inside to study the papers.

* * *

The six figures threw her, but she had more or less expected it.

There was so much work to be done, but she also knew that lots of the work could very well be DIY projects for her.

She still had some of her savings. This wasn't impossible, this was doable.

After a while, she took out her phone and called Dwight. On the second ring he jokingly asked,

"Do you need an ambulance?"

She laughed.

She wasn't a person to make friends easily, but he made her laughed.

"I wanted Tequila shots but I toughed it out. When can you start?" Aghast, Dwight sputtered,

"What? Come again." A smiling M.J said,

"I want to go for it. When can you start?"

Dwight was completely taken aback.

"I might need an ambulance myself. Don't you want to think about it some more? Plus, there's another contractor who does great work also.

I know you might be thinking I'm an idiot right about now, but I'm just offering you another choice...it's just the way I am."

* * *

Once again M.J was floored by the honesty of Mr. Evans.

Her thoughts started drifting to _' **him** ' _but she caught herself.

"I bought this house because it spoke to me...words I needed to hear. You get that Mr. Evans. Many people won't. You know exactly what I need done to this old house, and I have no doubt that you will turn this into a home...my home.

Some of the work I can do to minimize the cost, so...when can you start?"

Dwight felt proud. She trusted him.

In his mind, she was an exceptional young woman who knew exactly what her limitations were.

He cleared his throat audibly and said, "I can begin next week, probably Tuesday. By Monday I'll have a contract drawn and we can go from there."

Excited and smiling, she replied, "Great! Looking forward to Monday then."

* * *

Monday rolled around and Dwight returned with the contract, his wife Mary and his very pretty daughter Stacie, also a mini me of him, and Stevie's twin.

After introductions, Mrs. Evans said,

"He's had ideas about what needed to be done to this place for years. He said you think similar to him. Dwight's the best. He's going to make it wonderful for you dear."

Dwight hugged his wife and said,

"She's biased. By the way, work starts in the morning. I have a dumpster coming and the full crew will be here by seven. We're going to be loud, think you can handle it?"

A smiling M.J replied, "Noise is good...sometimes." They all shared a laugh, even Stacie who is just as shy as her twin.

The Evans family said their goodbyes and she watched as they got into their truck and drove off.

* * *

It was late evening when she decided to go for a drive and take some pictures along the way.

About two hours and many photos later, she decided to call it a day.

Twilight shimmered in the west as she followed the winding road home.

It happened suddenly, a flash of brown, she made out to be a deer, as it dashed from the trees right across her path.

She turned the wheel to avoid a collision, but the car fishtailed.

She felt the tyre blow, more so than hear it and swore under her breath as she fought for control. She ended up in a ditch on the other side of the road, her heart pounding in her ears.

The deer turned its head as if annoyed by her and ran off into the shadows.

M.J sat and stewed, picturing the many ways in which she wished to hurt that deer.

Less than two minutes later, headlights appeared, coming in her direction.

She made out the shape of a truck as it slowed and came to a stop in front of her. She gripped the can of pepper spray she always kept between the front seats...just in case.

"Car trouble?" The occupant asked as he alighted from the vehicle.

"A flat, but I got it...thanks," she replied.

Nevertheless, he sauntered forward, his silhouette visible with the headlights behind him.

"Got a spare?" A nice voice, tall, long legs and long arms, she noted.

"Yes, I have a spare," she answered grudgingly. Persistent as ever he continued as if they were acquainted.

"Good, I'll change it for you." She moved the can into spraying position.

"Thank you, but I've got it," she ground out.

* * *

He bent to take a closer look at the wheel.

She could see him better now.

Blonde hair, strong jaw, light scruff, black leather jacket and big hands on the knees of his long legs.

"I've got emergency lights in the truck, I'll get them and set you on your way," he said.

He looked at her then, his handsome face and full pouty lips on his un-smiling mouth. It dawned on her, that she had seen this resemblance before, but she couldn't quite recall where.

"I've changed a tyre before," she pressed, hoping that he would catch on. Still he persisted.

"Me too. In fact, you can make a living out of it. Sam Evans of Evans' Garage and Body Works. The name is on the side of my truck. I'm a mechanic...rather, I used to be," he said.

Stubborn as ever, M.J replied, voice dripping with sass,

"I didn't call a mechanic." Smiling a familiar lopsided smile, he asked,

"Aren't you glad one came along? I'd also appreciate it if you don't spray me with that can of Mace."

With that, he went to his truck and got the emergency lights.

"You're going to need a new tyre. This one is done. How'd you managed that?" he asked. Hesitating momentarily, she replied,

"It was a deer. Came from nowhere...well from the trees, and jumped right out in front of me. I overcompensated..."

He knew exactly what she meant. He has seen many busted tyres and windshields in his time as a mechanic. These days not so much. He is now into managing the business side of his shop.

"I get the picture. Are you making your way home?" he asked. When she remained silent, he continued,

"You're coming from town...or at least in that direction and I have never seen you before. Beautiful woman like you, I would remember if I had."

If she was lighter in complexion, he would have seen the blush on her pretty face. She chose her words carefully.

"Uh yeah, I was heading home...then this happened." He hummed in a noncommittal way and stumped her with his next question.

"Are you M.J? The new owner of that old house on the bluff?"

Feeling apprehensive, she stepped back and took up a defensive position.

Seeing this, Sam chuckled to himself. He looked at the beauty in front of him, curvy, soft looking milk chocolate skin, plump kissable lips and short...very short.

"Relax, I'm not trying to pry, neither am I a creeper," he calmly said. He continued as he saw her posture softened.

"My dad, Dwight Evans is supposed to be fixing up that house for a lovely lady by the name of M.J...I must say, his description doesn't do you justice."

She felt her face heat up at his words.

Quietly, she said, "Thank you. I thought there was something familiar about you. Dwight's great, so is your mum, and the twins...they are the cutest teens I've ever met."

This brought an un-knowing smile to Sam's lips. He loved his family dearly. They were very close.

"Thank you, they are everything you said and more.

By the way, you can put that spray away, unless you plan to Mace me to death. Besides my obvious resemblance to my dad, you're welcomed to call him and check out anything I've said."

M.J threw the can on her front passenger seat and said,

"He didn't mention he had another son...or child, so I assumed it was just the twins."

* * *

He finished tightening the lug nuts on the spare and gave it a spin.

"Well, I won't hold that against you. I live on my own and I'm rarely seen traveling with my dad...I drive, I'm old enough to...so there," he playfully said.

Rolling her eyes, M.J laughed sarcastically. "Ha ha."

This caused him to stand to his full height and step closer to her, towering over her. With a mischievous smirk, he asked,

"How tall are you?"

M.J wanted to smack the smirk off his handsome face. She looked up directly into his gorgeous green eyes and said,

"Tall enough. Are you done?"

Playfully, Sam lifted a strand of her long curly hair, and said, just as she smacked his hand away,

"All done ma'am. Would you like me to take that busted tyre and order you a new one?"

Seeing the sincere look on his face, she replied, "Yes thank you."

She begun to rummage through her pockets and he stopped her by asking,

"You want to pay me?" Shaking her head yes, she responded by saying,

"Of course. I don't expect you to do what you just did for free." This emitted a chuckle from him.

"That's not necessary M.J. I don't want your money...however, maybe a drink together...sometime, that would be payment enough."

M.J stared incredulously at him. Her body felt heated all of a sudden, just by the way his voice dropped and sounded so southern. This man was sexy personified and he wasn't even trying to be.

She schooled her features and asked,

"That's it? A drink? You don't want anything else?" His playful mood showing again, Sam said,

"Careful, that's a loaded question, but yeah, a drink...and don't forget about the 'together' part. I don't think that's too much to ask, seeing as I risked being Maced to death, just to change your tyre."

A huge smile lit up her pretty face.

"Thanks for your help Sam. I will see about that drink...sometime."

Sam smiled at her words. He watched her walked off, his green eyes glued to her more than ample backside, as she got into her car and buckled up.

He in turn got into his truck and gave his horn a friendly honk as she drove away. Quietly he said to himself,

"There's something about her. I think she will be the death of me...what a sweet death that would be..."

 **Yay or nay? Looking forward to hearing something. Also there's a reason Mercedes is going by the name M.J. It will all be revealed gradually.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, just want to say thank you for such a great welcome and for your kind words. It keeps me motivated. Much love to you.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters**.

* * *

Tuesday morning at the crack of dawn, M.J was up and putting together her breakfast and lunch for the day.

She had decided to make herself available to the crew, to take on any task she thought she could possibly handle.

She found herself among those who were dismantling the kitchen. Hands in, she swung a sledgehammer...much to the guys delight, wielded a crowbar, helped to haul out old counters, old cabinets and whatever was going into the skip that day.

By the end of work day, she was dead on her feet and before the sun could disappear behind the forest trees, she was asleep.

* * *

Next morning, she was aching in places she didn't even know existed.

This day however, was meant to be taken a little bit easier by her. She instead got out her trusty camera and took photos of the crew as they worked.

By evening, she had in her collection, sweaty torsos, calloused hands, bleeding knuckles and dusty work boots.

* * *

Every morning the hammering started, but evenings were quiet and peaceful. This was her time. She would sit on one of her new chairs, on her bedroom deck, breathe in the quiet, and eat anything from sandwiches to pizza.

Day after day was the same.

She briefly remembers the quiet and solitude that the house afforded her before, now every day, said house was full of people and noise.

Some days she was ready to pack up and leave, because, even the view couldn't balance out what she was enduring.

* * *

The rains came one day, just as work closed off and M.J felt well and truly trapped.

She couldn't concentrate on her music, neither could she pick up her trusty camera and take photos.

She decided to put all of her frustrations into painting. Dressed in a fitted T-shirt, jeans, ball cap and a pair of high tops, she got to work on the master bedroom walls.

* * *

It was late evening when Sam drove up to the old house.

He looked at the huge dumpster out front, and imagined his dad and the crew having a ball filling it up. He got out of his truck, shoulders hunched against the wet evening, and strolled up to the house.

He thought of the curvy beauty with the 'don't-make-me-kick-your-ass' attitude and smiled.

The door was ajar, so he let himself in.

The interior as far as he could see, looked sad, dim and neglected. Drop cloths and cardboard covered the floor...and he truly saw that there was a lot of space to fix and fill.

He wondered what a person...more so the sexy woman he couldn't stop thinking about, meant to do with all of these rooms.

He sounded his voice, not wanting to scare her. No answer.

"M.J?" Once again no answer.

He made his way up the back stairs to the second floor, and stood staring down the hallway. Shuddering, he softly said, "Eerie."

He wondered then, how in God's name did she sleep in this place at night...alone.

He came to a door, in a sort of corner room and knocked on it. Again no answer, so he did the next logical thing, open it.

He peeped in, and there she stood...on a step ladder, in paint-splattered clothes and Converse high-tops, carefully painting at ceiling height.

Softly, he rapped his knuckles on the opened door, and as she dipped her brush, she sang a verse of "Human Nature."

Amazed at her voice, he emitted a low whistle and softly said, "You have a beautiful voice M.J."

Seeing her still in her own world, he moved closer. It was at this point, that he noticed the ear buds.

He slowly walked to her and lightly tapped her shoulder.

She spun fast, with the brush in hand and painted the side of his face as he tried to dodge the swipe.

"Oh," he gasped and quickly placed his hands on her bottom to keep her on the ladder. He smiled smugly and said,

"Nice." At that, she replied, "Back off." He did as he was told, but he was also in a playful mood.

"You over balanced. I was just trying to keep you and that bucket of paint off the floor."

He took out his face cloth then, wiped his face and continuing with his playful banter, said,

"The things I do...and the thanks I get...figures."

* * *

M.J looked at the silly man in front of her and chuckled softly. "Sorry."

He raised his hands then, as if to tell her she didn't need to apologize.

"I knocked, but you and Michael were busy. Amazing voice by the way."

She blushed at the compliment. Carefully she placed her brush down and replied.

"Thank you...but...when you knock and no one answers, the polite thing to do...is leave."

Looking into her brown eyes, he came back with,

"That's fifty-fifty, don't you think? A lot of people would definitely open the door and take a look." She rolled her eyes at his logic.

"What do you want?" Sarcastically he replied,

"Nice to see you too. I brought your tyre...the replacement I ordered." She softened at that. "Oh. Thank you."

With an airy, "No problem," Sam took out a folded invoice and held it out to her.

"Can I pay by cheque?" She asked.

"Sure. Cash, cheque, credit card, your choice." She took out her purse and wrote him a cheque.

"Thank you for bringing the tyre." He stepped closer to her then and softly said, "My pleasure."

Her eyes dropped to his lips just as his dropped to hers. The two got lost in a trance and it took the door closing to bring them out of whatever world they were currently in.

Clearing his throat, Sam said, "You should open the sliding doors and get some air in here. That's a lot of paint to inhale."

Nodding her head, M.J agreed. "It's raining, but you are right."

* * *

She moved to the sliding doors and fought to open them. "This has got to go," she angrily said.

Sam moved behind her and placed his hand above hers. He gave it one good shove and it opened.

"Makes you forget how eerie the second floor looks, doesn't it?" he jokingly asked.

M.J pasted a disgusting look on her pretty face as she turned and looked into his twinkling eyes.

"Eew. Now I'm going to imagine horror messages painted in blood all over the walls. Thank you Sam Evans."

He grinned and said, "I have to get going. Good luck with this."

She gave her thanks and watched him walk to the door, looking back at her just as he exited it. She thought about him then.

He had backed off when she told him to. This indicated to her, that he was harmless. "But is he?" she muttered to herself.

Those beautiful piercing green eyes were very direct, but they showed that he wasn't a man to trifle with. She told herself then, that she had no intention of trifling with Sam Evans.

She pictured his athletic physique, knowing there was a toughness about him. He was attractive...sexy, no questions asked...but who was she kidding, this man was gorgeous.

It shouldn't matter, but his height was definitely a turn-on. She wouldn't deny that she felt a tug towards him.

She knew how to judge who might be an easy companion for a night...or two, if she had the need, but if and when she felt that need, she would steer clear of Sam Evans.

Her life would always be complicated, although she wished for simplicity. Her heart however, told her that Sam Evans was anything but simple.

* * *

Three weeks later, Dwight was just finishing installing the hardware on the kitchen cabinets, and M.J was over-joyed.

"I can't believe how it looks," she says. Dwight chuckled.

"It's coming along." M.J stared un-believingly at the contractor.

"Coming along. Dwight, it's amazing. I have to start thinking about dishes and glassware now," she gushed.

"You should talk to Mary. That woman loves playing with new dishes. You know what? You should come out tonight and have a drink with us, down at Marcie's Bar." M.J paused for a beat.

"Is that the bar off Vine Street," she asked. Smiling a familiar smile, Mr. Evans replied,

"Yeah, it's a nice place. Good food and there's music tonight. Mary and I are letting the twins have a sleepover with our neighbor's kids. Our oldest, Sam, you've met him right? He'll be there tonight as well. He's part of the music act...he plays guitar and sing in the band.

Why don't you meet us there. Mary would love that." Pondering every thing that Dwight said, M.J replied,

"You had me at music. Oh...I did meet Sam. He was my knight in shining armor."

Dwight smiled genuinely at her reply. He wouldn't say anything, but he knew his son was drawn to this beautiful woman beside him. The way his son goes on about her, it's like he's known her for years, plus...Mary is well-known for her matchmaking skills.

"I'll see you at Marcie's," he said, as he packed up for the evening and headed home.

Later that night, M.J looked at herself in the spotted old mirror standing in the corner of her room.

She had decided to go casual. She chose a purple and black plaid long sleeved shirt, which she wore inside of dark washed skin tight jeans, with black heels.

She wore light lip gloss and the only piece of jewelry was a chain with M.J on it. Her long hair was curled and allowed to flow freely over her shoulders.

Feeling good about her outfit, she headed out.

* * *

She arrived at the bar and wound her way through the crowd. She didn't expect to see so many people there. She found her hand caught...in Mary's, just as she reached the bar.

"I'm so glad you came." M.J happily replied,

"Dwight sold me on the idea, so I couldn't resist." Pulling her towards a stool, Mary said,

"Dwight, look who's here. Can you get us some drinks?" Dwight stood, the southern gentleman in him showing.

"Good to see you M.J. So...girls...what'll you have?" Mary answered first. "I'd like a Margarita. M.J?"

"I hear the song of a frozen Margarita with salt calling my name," M.J replied.

Dwight turned then, trying to get the attention of the bartender and placed the orders. Mary swiveled in her chair, looking directly at M.J.

"God, you're beautiful." M.J was floored. She started to stutter out her thanks, "Uh... I...than..." She was cut off by Mary saying,

"Alcohol makes me loose. I've always wanted to have curves and a butt...look at what happened." M.J smiled kindly.

"I've always wanted to be tall, but what am I going to do?" They both laughed and high-fived each other.

Just then, Dwight slid their drinks to them and told them to find a table. He motioned to the back of the bar and moved off in that direction.

* * *

At the back, there was a stage with music equipment set up and a spotlight hitting directly in the center. Mary smiled knowingly.

"He's a great kid you know...my Sam I mean. I think you and him might get along well."

If M.J didn't know better, she would think that Mary was trying to set her up with her son. She softly said, "He's a charmer."

Mrs. Evans looked at her, studying her posture, she noted something in her eyes and a hint of nervousness when they spoke about Sam. Internally she said, "Yep, she's attracted to him."

She smiled happily, and not wanting to push, changed the subject.

"Before Dwight comes back...because I might embarrass him...I'm going to ask you, to ask me to come over and look at the place."

M.J chuckled.

She can admit that she really likes Mary Evans. She can feel the stirrings of a great friendship...if nothing else.

"You can come over anytime Mary. Maybe we can put our heads together and come up with some great ideas for furnishing."

Lightly, Mary squeezed her hand and said, "I swear I won't be a pest or anything."

She smiled as her husband approached with a jumbo Margarita in his hand.

"I've talked her ear off Dwight. Stop me," she said. Kissing her cheek, he playfully responded,

"Shut up Mary."

M.J looked on at the obvious love between the two. She longed for that.

She got lost in herself for a few moments, it was only when Mary said,

"I will. Plus you know I love it when Sam and the guys do this number," that M.J tuned in. She turned then to look at the band, recognizing the song.

Sam's voice lit the suggestive lyrics of **_'I'm on fire'_** like a slow burning match. He wore black jeans, black T-shirt and black motorcycle boots.

He stood tall, probably six feet and more, his guitar slung low, his fingers working the frets and strings, as his voice wrung every drop of sex out of the words.

God! It was getting hot in there...all of a sudden.

"Sam and his band play here every couple of weeks," Dwight said to her. "They're called Voltage," he finished.

The only thing that M.J could utter was, "Oh." A voice inside her said, "Damn it!" as those bold green eyes met hers, and as his voice sent out lures...possibly warnings too.

She looked at her drink and came to one conclusion, she would definitely need that and more to cool off.

* * *

The first break the band got, he came over. Mary pointed at him and said,

"You guys did it again Sam...and you my son, you were wonderful." He moved to her and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek.

"Thanks mom." He moved to his dad next and clasp his hand in his.

"Great job son. You guys get better and better every time I hear you," Dwight beamed. Sam's cheeks reddened.

"Thanks dad."

He sat then, slouched with his long legs stretched out. "Howdy," he said, as he gave M.J a slow smile.

She felt her insides warm when she heard that sexy southern drawl. She quietly took a sip of her third drink and answered,

"Good. I'm good." She felt as though someone had lit a fire under her skin. She continued.

"You guys were good too. My best friend Tina would have loved this. She likes Springsteen."

Mary and Dwight watched the exchange between their son and M.J. They looked at each other, smiling secretly and knowingly.

Just then, a blonde in a light blue shirt, came up and placed her hands around Sam's neck.

"Are you doing my favorite song Sammy?" Her quirky voice grated on M.J's ears. She didn't know why, but it annoyed her. She cautioned herself inside of her head and plastered a smile on her face.

"Last set," Sam answered. The blonde beamed excitedly.

"How about coming over with me and Suzy and having a beer?"

Sam was getting annoyed. His eyes moved between his mom and M.J and the thunderous look on his mom's face startled him.

"I'm working Mindy...besides, my parents are here with a guest." M.J watched as she pouted and looked her over.

"You could come over anyway. Hi Mary. Hi Dwight." Her gaze moved to M.J again.

"Who's your friend?"

Dwight answered. "M.J, this is Mindy."

The annoying blonde continued, with her chin resting on top of Sam's head. "Are you visiting?"

M.J by this time, had cursed her out a few times in her head. She decided to be as polite as she could.

"No, I live here."

"I haven't seen you around before. Hey, are you the person who bought that old house on the bluff?"

Before M.J could answer, the blonde continued, "Dwight you're working there right?" Mr. Evans looked into his drink and said,

"That's correct."

She switched back to M.J. "You must be rich or crazy."

* * *

The look on M.J's face told all. She wanted to spank Mindy like the annoying child she seemed to be.

"I'm not rich or crazy." With no filter, Mindy continued,

"You know that place is haunted right? Someone should have told you. I'd be scared out of my mind to stay there alone."

Sam felt the uneasiness around the table.

"I'll come over next break," he said, patting her hand to release him.

"Great, maybe..." She leaned close to his ear and whispered something to him. It made Sam smile and he said,

"That's a hell of an offer Mindy, but I don't want your husband coming after me with a shotgun." She whined, actually whined.

"We're divorced." Sam didn't budge.

"Well...think about it," she said, as she swiveled her non-existent hips back to her table.

"Hard not to," he mumbled.

Mary Evans was mad and Dwight was annoyed.

"What was the offer son?" he asked. He wanted to know. Sam knew that, and he knew his mom wanted to know also...mostly to put Mindy in her place. He chanced a look at M.J, it was hard to tell what she was thinking.

"I'll tell you later," he said to his dad. Mary looked at M.J with an apology in her eyes.

"She just can't help it. She's so clueless," she said.

Sam really wanted to know what M.J was thinking. He asked, "Did she cause any offense?"

M.J raised her glass to her lips and took a sip, just before she said,

"Not to me...but then again, she didn't make me an offer."

Sam didn't understand why, but that remark stung. He decided to drop it and go in another direction.

"You guys want another round?" His mom responded first.

"Another Margarita and I'll be a wild woman. I need a beer son." Sam chuckled as Dwight added,

"I'll keep up with her."

M.J declined. "Not for me, I'm driving...besides, I should get going."

Sam didn't want to hear that.

"Stick around. Make a request," he said, casting her a sly look. She thought about it for a moment and then she said,

"Okay, how about **_'Hard to Explain?'_**

He smiled widely, stood up, pointed a finger in her direction and walked off.

"I can't say I know that one, but I bet Sam does," Mary said.

Another round of drinks for his parents and water for M.J came compliments of Sam as they sat and enjoyed the music. The band was phenomenal.

M.J stayed for most of the second set and then slipped out after saying her goodbyes to the Evans'.

Sam watched as she made her exit, his eyes following her until she was out the door. To say he was disappointed would be putting it mildly.

* * *

Next day, he found himself in front of her house. He strolled up to the door and knocked.

He heard her angelic voice said, "Coming," and he smiled to himself. However, her face fell when she saw who was at the door.

She wasn't equipped to handle this much sexiness in the morning. Playfully Sam asked,

"Were you expecting someone else? Boyfriend? Husband?" M.J crossed her arms over her chest.

"Ha ha! Very funny. I'm not married neither do I have a boyfriend." His green orbs lit up at that piece of information.

"Good, then you have no reason not to let me in. You still owe me that drink, lady."

M.J rolled her eyes effortlessly. She caught a whiff of his aftershave as he passed her. He smelled good, really good. She fanned herself with her hand and muttered to herself, "God help me."

Sam's eyes rove the kitchen and was thoroughly surprised to see that it was almost completed. He knew his dad was good at what he does, but this had to be one of his greatest works yet.

"What can I do for you Sam?" her voice broke through his pensive stance.

He looked at her. She looked hot as usual. Tight T-shirt clinging to her well endowed chest and really tight jeans, enhancing her hips and glorious ass.

He licked his lips and bit down on the bottom one.

"Well...today is a beautiful day...and I thought that since work was on a break... I would come and entice you into spending the day with me," he rambled.

M.J raised her hand to halt anything else he might want to say.

"You do know I'm busy right? Plus, I don't know that much about you."

Even as she said the words, she knew they were fabricated. Yes she was busy, but not today and although she didn't know him for that long, she knew he was a good guy. Plus she liked Dwight and Mary.

Sam wasn't backing down.

"Okay. I get that...but now is your chance to get to know me...and I promise to help you do anything you missed out on doing here today. So...deal?" he earnestly asked.

Why couldn't she stick to her guns when she was around him. In the back of her mind, there was this lingering thought that he had the power to make or break her...if she let him in.

She looked at his hopeful handsome face and gave in. "Alright, what do you have in mind Mr. Evans?"

You couldn't wipe the smile from Sam's face. He rubbed his hands excitedly and replied,

"A picnic in the park. I know just the spot."

* * *

Despite her earlier reservations, M.J was having a wonderful time with Sam in the park. He did impressions for her, making her laugh loudly and as he did, he felt as though he could make her laugh forever.

He provided her with a fantastic lunch and they really got down to knowing each other, mostly on Sam's part. There was only so much that she would divulge to him. He noted that and made a concentrated effort not to push.

He regaled her with tales about him and the twins, giving her another glimpse of the great guy he is.

She could tell he loved his sister and brother very much and that family meant a lot to him.

She felt a pang in her chest as she thought about her _'family'_...they were all that she had...and she missed them immensely.

They embarked on a game of Twenty Questions and Sam asked,

"Favorite color?" She replies, "Green, but I also like purple." He smiled at her answer.

"Yours?"

"Green," he replied. For some reason, his answer didn't surprise her.

They went on learning little things about each other and just like that the day flew by. They packed up their picnic and headed towards her place.

He walked her to the door, not wanting to say goodbye.

Presently, he stepped closer to her and she should have seen it coming, because she is very good at judging people's moods and moves...but she didn't.

He pulled her in, before she could figure out what he was going to do and claimed her lips in a deep languid kiss.

His mouth totally conquered hers, while his hands moved up and down her body.

M.J knew she could stop the kiss...if she wanted to...but she didn't. Yes he was taller and stronger than her, and she could defend herself if need be...but there was no need.

She gripped his waist, fingers digging in and completely let herself go.

After a while, it was Sam who eased back and she found herself staring into his dangerous green eyes. Her legs felt shaky, so she steadied herself by holding on to his strong forearms.

Sam looked down at the pocket sized woman and knew he could...or he was...definitely falling for her. After a whispered 'bye' from her, he placed a soft kiss to her lips and wished her a good night.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. The next chapter will have a flashback that will shed some light on things you might be pondering. I hope this was good enough.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I just want to say THANK YOU for your kind reviews. They give me impetus to continue and to be creative. To those who are following and those who have made this a favorite on their list, I thank you.**

 **WARNING: This chapter is very dark and can be disturbing as it have graphic details of a sadistic nature. My apologies.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

 _Ten year old Mercedes Jones awoke from her sleep with a start._

 _She didn't know who or what woke her, the only thing she knew, was that, she was lying on top of Summer moist sheets with the soft rumble of thunder in the distance._

 _She sat on her bed in the dark, wondering what to do next._

 _She looked at the small bedside clock, its numbers illuminated in the dark of the room, and saw that it was exactly three in the morning._

 _Alas! It was still too far from dawn and thoughts of sneaking out before her family was awake, to go for a swim in the lake, was just that...a thought._

 _She had done it before, unknown to her dad of course. Her mom knew, but she was the one to let rules slide...especially when dad wasn't around._

 _With him chores came first, whether it was a weekday or a weekend. He was strict that way and could be very controlling._

* * *

 _The sound of the thunder startled her from her thoughts as it grew closer._

 _She scrambled from her bed and went to her opened window._

 _She loved to see lightning. It was her favorite thing about storms._

 _In her young mind, she rationalized it was God taking pictures with a giant camera._

 _In a matter of days, she would turn eleven and she was sure her friends would laugh at her, if they knew what she thought._

 _She could just picture her classmate Rachel Berry saying,_

 _"Yeah, sure Mercedes. I think God has more important things to do than to take pictures of houses and the ground."_

 _She rolled her eyes as she thought about her annoying classmate with the huge hands._

* * *

 _She wished for morning to break, but more importantly, she wished it was the morning of her birthday._

 _She wanted a karaoke machine so much._

 _Rachel has one. She liked to have 'friends' over so that she could show-off and sing every Broadway song her young head could remember._

 _She's selfish and has never let any of them have a turn on it._

 _Mercedes vowed that the day she receive one, she would have all of their friends over and have a singing party._

 _She has thrown out plenty of hints to her parents and has considered herself to be a good girl. She always does what is asked of her and she does well in school._

 _She would settle for a Polaroid camera if she didn't get her wish._

 _Besides singing, she loved to take pictures, and was always the one her friends would ask to do so._

 _She was also responsible for the Jones' annual Christmas family photo. She knew how to set the timer on the device and always knew the perfect backdrop and lighting._

* * *

 _As she sat by her window lost in her thoughts, she caught a movement and a dull flash, barely in her peripheral._

 _It wasn't lightning, neither was it an animal...it was a beam from a flashlight._

 _Someone was out there. Panic set in._

 _Her home was surrounded by trees and a burglar could make good his escape, if he chose to flee that way._

 _She strained her eyes looking at the figure as it picked its way through the trees._

 _It dawned on her, that she knew that walk. It was her father!_

 _She stood from her seat and watched as he hobbled along, favoring his left leg...the result of an old football injury he acquired in his late teens._

 _Her guess was, that he was headed to the lake to cool off._

 _Her mind made up, she took up her flip flops, her little flashlight and fled the room._

* * *

 _She moved quietly on the creaky stairs, until she reached the back door and went out._

 _She knew if her dad caught her, she would be in serious trouble, but something was urging her to follow him._

 _She caught the beam again and started following a ways behind._

 _As she too picked her way along, she wondered what was going to happen when she got where her dad was going, or what would happen if he suddenly turned back._

* * *

 _The thunder rumbled on and on, and the lightning began to flash more closer than before._

 _She knew there was a Summer storm approaching, but at this point she felt undaunted._

 _Curiosity propelled her and drove her on, as she tried to avoid rotten twigs on the ground._

 _Something screeched and made her jump a little. She placed her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream that was halfway up her throat._

 _"Just an owl...probably hunting," she said to herself._

 _The sky chose at that moment to darken, causing her to stumble and stub her toe on an unseen rock._

 _Once again she had to smother her mouth to muffle the hiss of pain._

 _Still she continued, her eyes trained on the beam ahead of her._

 _Suddenly, her father stopped._

 _Her heart pounded like a drum, trying to beat its way out of her chest._

 _She went still. In her statuesque state, she saw the beam trained to the ground, as if he was looking for something._

 _Her mind screamed at her to turn around and go back home, but she silenced it when she decided to move closer._

 _She saw the beam danced for a second, indicating that her dad had somehow almost lost control of it._

 _She heard a scraping and what sounded like leaves being heaped...still she crept closer, and just then, the sky lightened._

 _By this time, she realized that the sound of the thunder was distant and the lightning was flashing further away._

 _A rattle and a creak like her own back-door sounded and then the light and her dad disappeared._

* * *

 _In the deep dark woods, ten year old Mercedes Jones stood scared, her breathing shallow and a coldness prickling her skin...despite the hot weather._

 _The urge to run hit her like a ton of bricks._

 _"Run...run home...go back to bed and close your eyes...tight," the voice in her head screamed._

 _"I'm not scared, I'm not scared," she whispered, whilst wrapping her arms around herself for comfort._

 _Silently, she crept forward._

 _The clouds chose that moment once again to shift._

 _In the faint light, she made out an old cabin, windowless and its chimney leaning, looking as though it could fall at any moment._

 _As she wondered where her father had gone, she moved a few steps closer, her ears pricked for any sound...but only the distant sound of thunder could be heard, besides the night insects._

 _Once again, she stubbed her toe and a small cry of pain escaped her. She shined her little light, looking for the rock, but to her surprise, she saw a door in the ground._

 _She got down on all fours, and ran her hand over it. Her thoughts ran wild._

 _"Maybe dad is a superhero in disguise...and fights crime at night," she said internally. She silenced her rambling mind and listened intently._

 _She could hear him moving around down there, so she made up her mind to wait and see what would happen._

 _Her bladder chose that moment to let her know she had to pee._

 _Rolling her eyes, she moved off to the side and behind a tree, to get down to business._

* * *

 _Just as she was finished and starting to pull her shorts up, the door creaked opened._

 _She froze in her actions, her shorts around her knees and her lips pressed tight...holding her breath._

 _She saw him then, her dad...looking wild, his teeth baring in a menacing grin, as he turned on his flashlight and it hit him square in the face._

 _She almost expected him to throw his head back and howl like a wolf._

 _Fear engulfed her young body. Something about the way he looked brought it on._

 _Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as she saw him rub his private area and squeezed it._

 _He closed the door and shot the bolt home...the hard scraping sound, causing her to shiver like a leaf in a storm._

 _She watched as he threw leaves back over the door, in a way to conceal it from anyone who might pass by._

 _True fear consumed her now, as she saw him looked around and right in the direction of where she stood._

 _For one horror filled moment, she thought that he had indeed seen her. This man, in this particular moment, whom she knew to be her father...a man who provided for his family...a man who stood occasionally at the altar and preached to his friends and neighbors...was a stranger to her, and she believed also in that moment...that he would hurt her._

 _She felt it deep within her bones. "Please daddy, please," she chanted in her head with her eyes closed._

 _The sound of his feet crunching the leaves caused her to open them, and she watched as he turned away with long confident strides, heading back the way he came._

* * *

 _Mercedes didn't dare move a muscle, until she heard nothing but night sounds again._

 _She hiked her shorts up, as her eyes adjusted enough for her to make her way towards the door._

 _The picture of her father looking wild and scary, came to mind as she traced her hands over the rusty bolt._

 _She shook her head as if to clear the image, and her fingers moved at their own will._

 _Within seconds the bolt was out of place. She struggled as she lifted the door and looked down into the dark hole._

 _Remembering her little flashlight, she took it and turned it on. Its narrow beam illuminated a ladder._

 _Sudden fear of her father returning, halted her movements and just as she was about to go back up, she heard a faint whimper._

 _Once again, she froze in her actions._

 _Her thoughts took over again. She wondered if it was an animal...maybe her dad bought her a puppy for her birthday and was keeping it there to surprise her._

 _This fueled her curiosity._

 _She continued her downward trek and landed on a dirt floor._

 _As she swung her light around, happy thoughts invaded her mind...the last she would feel for a while. Where she imagined a cute puppy whimpering in his little bed...was a woman._

* * *

 _She saw the woman's eyes widened, shining like glass as tears streamed freely from them. Her mouth was taped and she made funny sounds trying to talk._

 _Her face and throat were full of bruises and raw marks, as if someone had tried to choke her to death...and she was naked._

 _Her hands were bound by rope, bloodied from the marks on her wrist, and it was tied to a metal post behind an old mattress. Her feet were also bound at the ankles and spread wide._

 _Still she tried to speak against her taped mouth. In a dreamlike state, Mercedes moved forward and told her,_

 _"Don't try to speak...and don't yell. He might hear and return...alright?"_

 _The woman nodded her head in understanding, as her swollen bloodshot eyes pleaded with Mercedes to help her._

 _"You have to be quiet...please be quiet," Mercedes whispered as she removed the tape._

 _It made an awful sound, and left a raw red mark, but as promised, the woman didn't yell._

 _"Please help me...don't leave me here," she pleaded. Her voice sounded as if she hadn't used it for a very long time._

 _"You have to get away from here. He might come back," Mercedes said, as she tried to untie the rope, but the knots proved to be a challenge._

 _She looked around and saw a bottle of liquor, more rope, an old blanket and a lantern._

 _She picked up the bottle with the intention of breaking it, so that she could use a shard to cut the rope._

 _Her knees almost buckled as she really looked at what was beside the liquor bottle and beyond._

 _There were magazines with naked women on the covers, a camera, lots and lots of photos with naked women taped to the walls, bloodied and tied up. There were also photos of women who stared out with dead eyes, torn cloth with blood on them and many knives._

 _She could smell the blood._

 _Closing her mind to all that she saw, Mercedes picked up a knife and went to work on cutting the rope off the woman._

 _"You have to be quiet," she said to the woman, to this the woman replied, "Hurry...please hurry."_

 _Within seconds she had the woman's arms free, and she saw the sharp intake as the woman bit back a moan._

 _"It hurts...God it hurts."_

 _Tears stung Mercedes' eyes as she witnessed how much pain the woman was in._

 _"Don't think about it...it hurts when you do, okay?" she softly said to her._

 _To keep from seeing those awful photos, Mercedes decided to keep talking._ _She asked,_

 _" What's your name?" The woman replied,_

 _"Katie. Who is he? Where is he?"_ _Mercedes didn't want to say, but something compelled her to._

 _"He should be home by now. Did you hear the thunder? I think a storm is coming," she deflected._

* * *

 _As she said those words, she came to a conclusion, no matter how unreal it was...she was at home too...safe in her room, in her bed...and this was all a bad dream._

 _"You have to get up and get out of here," she said, as she freed Katie's feet._

 _She took up the old blanket and threw it around Katie's thin shoulders. She watched as she tried to get up, with sweat running down her bruised face, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. They couldn't hold her._

 _She fell back to the floor, her breath labored and her frail body trembling._

 _"You have to help me. I can't walk yet...please help me," she pleaded._

 _Mercedes wanted to cry. She wanted to be far away from this nightmare, but she knew that if she didn't help Katie, this would be the last place she ever knew._

 _So near and yet so far._

 _With grit determination, she steeled her young self, to face the task at hand._

 _Softly she said, "Your legs were asleep, that's all. Try to get up... I will help you."_

* * *

 _They worked together as a team and got Katie up on her feet._

 _"You'll have to lean on me and I'll help you up the ladder. You have to try to climb...please try," she earnestly told Katie._

 _In her little ten year old mind, she didn't know if her words inspired Katie, but she was pleased to hear her say,_

 _"I can do it. I know I can."_

* * *

 _The rain began to fall then, but it didn't stop the slow determined climb up the ladder._

 _After nearly slipping umpteen times, Katie made it out with Mercedes right behind her._

 _They tumbled to the ground, Katie sobbing at finally being freed and Mercedes elated for their effort...also for the relief from the pain in holding Katie's weight._

 _After catching her breath, Mercedes said to Katie,_

 _"You have to run."_ _A flash of panic clouded Katie's battered face._

 _"I'm not sure I can. I'm sorry... I don't know where I am...or how long I've been down there. I haven't had anything to eat or any water. He hurt me. He...raped me...choked me...hit me...and cut me."_

 _Mercedes didn't know what to say._

 _How could her father, a man she looked up to daily, a man who never laid a hand on her or her mother...do these things._

 _Her heart went out to Katie. She made a silent oath then and there...she would help her as much as she can...father be damned._

 _Katie's voice pulled her from her thoughts._

 _"I think something is wrong with my ankle. I won't be able to run on it. Can you help me get out of here and get to the police? Please?"_

 _Mercedes nodded in the affirmative._

 _"You have to lean on me and walk even if it hurts. I'll look for a stick to help you, but we have to go...and keep going. I'm not sure what time it is, but I'll be missed by daybreak and someone will come looking for me," she said._

 _"We have to get to the road, maybe someone will see us and stop. Town is more than a mile away and that's a lot of walk...but we can do it. Just keep walking," she finished._

 _Katie marveled at the little angel in front of her. She was scarily smart. She said, "I'll crawl if I have to."_

* * *

 _They moved off then and it was slow going._

 _The rain made it impossible to walk in some places. They slipped and slid their way through the trees, as they headed towards the roadside._

 _True to her word, Mercedes found a stick and gave it to Katie. It improved their trek a little and still they went on._

 _"I'm sorry, but I don't even know your name," Katie said._

 _"It's Mercedes." A faint smile graced Katie's features._

 _"That's a nice name. Can we stop for a minute?" she asked._

 _Mercedes wanted to put as much distance as she could between them and that hell-hole in the ground, also between them and her father, should he return._

 _"Okay, just one minute though."_

 _Katie was grateful, she braced herself against a tree, breathing hard and leaning on the stick, as rain and sweat ran down her face._ _She heard a distant bark and said,_

 _"I hear a dog."_ _Mercedes listened and she too heard it._

 _"Oh...that must be Skyler. The Benson's live over there," Mercedes said, pointing to her far right._

 _Katie's face transformed when she heard that. The hopeful look on her face spoke volumes._

 _"Oh God!" she cried, a happy sob escaping her bruised lips._

 _Her grip on the stick tightened and her knuckles, though bruised, turned white. Her glassy eyes looked alive and bright._

 _"Let's go there...we can get help and call the police," she said._

 _It saddened Mercedes, that she had to burst Katie's bubble. She knew the Benson's well. Mr. Benson is a deacon at the church her family goes to. She knew he would call her father before he called the police._

 _"I don't think we should. It's still too close. We need to move," she urged. Katie was taken aback._

 _"Too close. We've been walking forever. We could get help there."_

 _Mercedes' young head seemed full at the moment. She thought carefully about what she could say without divulging exactly what she knew._

 _"It might seem as though we were walking forever, but we haven't even gone a mile yet. I think we should keep moving and get to the road."_

 _Once a again, Katie looked at the little girl in front of her, she seemed on edge...there was something she wasn't telling her, but she trusted her. She didn't have to help her, she could have done like most kids and run away._

 _Suddenly, it dawned on her. This brave little girl knew that man! Words from earlier permeated her troubled mind._

 _ **"He should be home by now."**_

 _She said, "Okay...but be honest with me. Do you know that man? That took me and hurt me?"_

 _Mercedes' eyes lowered to the ground. She couldn't lie...wouldn't lie._

 _"Yes," she quietly replied. Katie drew in a deep breath._

 _"You know his name...and where he lives...is that right?" Once again Mercedes chose not to lie._

 _"Yes. I do. We have to keep moving." This time there was a sharp intake, not a deep breath._

 _"Tell me his name," Katie said, as she pushed off the tree._ _Pain shot through her battered body then, but she held it together and hobbled on._

 _"I need to know his name Mercedes...it will keep me going. Please?" Mercedes answered,_

 _"Marcus Tyrone Jones."_ _Katie allowed the name to sink in for a few seconds, just before she uttered them._

 _"Marcus Tyrone Jones. Thank you Mercedes...How old are you?" she asked._

 _"Ten going on eleven," Mercedes replied._

 _"Well...I wish you a happy birthday in advance. You are a strong, smart, brave young lady. You saved my life...don't ever forget that, because I won't. Thank you Mercedes," Katie tearfully said._

* * *

 _Tears ran down Mercedes' chubby cheeks. She never knew she was any of those things._

 _It hit her then, that she really did saved Katie's life._

 _"I won't. I won't forget."_

* * *

 _They moved on wordlessly, lost in their individual thoughts._

 _They kept to the woods even though it took longer, but they eventually headed towards the road, and the town loomed in front of them._

 _Every place was familiar to Mercedes._

 _Her school was there, her church, the market where her mother shopped and the police station._

 _As dawn approached, they walked passed the church, with Katie limping and panting with each step she took._

 _She looked around the unfamiliar little town and asked, "What town is this?"_

 _Softly Mercedes replied, "Caribou."_

 _"Where? I was in Lago. I go to the university there," Katie cried. A baffled Mercedes said,_

 _"That's about twelve miles from here." Choking back sobs, Katie explained._

 _"I like to run...I'm a distance runner, and I was training like I do every day. His car was parked in the road with the hood up. I thought he had a breakdown. I had to slow down...because the road is narrow. He grabbed me...and hit me with something...and when I came to... I was in that place. I need to stop for a minute."_

 _Mercedes' mind was racing. Her dad was a monster. He did this...to this woman...to those women. How could he?_

 _She grew angry, just thinking about him._

 _The photos of those bound and lifeless women swam in front of her eyes, cementing in her young mind, the depth of destruction her father had caused._

 _"We're almost there, see? Look at the house in front of us...read the sign," she said._

 _"Police Department. Thank God! Thank God!" Katie cried._

 _Her body began to shake as she sobbed, and Mercedes tightened her grip around her waist, taking more weight, as they trudged the rest of the way._

 _"We're safe now, we're safe now," Mercedes chanted._

 _Katie collapsed on the porch, in a battered, but relieved heap._

 _The grim details of what happened to her and how she ended up there, would have to be told and retold, time and time again...but she would do it. She had to._

 _Mercedes tucked her into the blanket and then knocked the door._

* * *

 **This was the best place to end the chapter. I hope this answers some of the questions you might have had. Future chapters will have continuous flashbacks which will show a bit more of M.J's background and what happened to her immediate family. Also, I don't know that much about Caribou or Lago and I'm not entirely sure there is a university there. I hope it was good enough.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I just wanted to say thank you for sticking with me, for making this a favorite of yours and to those of you who took the time to review, I thank you.**

 **For those of you who have read The Obsession, I am not going with that story line. I am just using certain scenes and dialogues to show why Mercedes is the way she is and why she is going by her initials.**

 **I do not own glee or the chracters, neither do I own The Obsession, it's the property of Norah Roberts.**

* * *

 **Present day...**

M.J was walking around her yard trying to picture a beautiful garden with the prettiest flowers ever seen.

At the moment, she was staring at patches of dry grass, boulders and rotted railing.

She had her little notebook, and every now and again, she would scribble something in it.

A truck, with what look like out of town plates appeared in her line of sight. She watched as it lumbered up the small hill and come to a stop in front of her house.

The driver leaned out and spoke to her. "Are you M.J?"

Curious, she replied, "Yes."

The driver went on. "Sorry we're late. We got lost." Curiosity turned to confusion.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't order anything."

The smiling driver hopped from the truck and said,

"You didn't, but someone did." Further confusion and slight annoyance began to creep in.

"I don't understand. Are you sure you have the right person? Maybe you're looking for another M.J."

The driver looked at his clipboard and replied,

"Yes ma'am...I'm sure I have the right person."

* * *

Just then, the passenger door opened and another guy hopped out. He tipped his hat at her and smiled.

M.J was getting more and more annoyed by the moment.

"What exactly are you guys doing here?" she asked.

With a cheeky grin the driver answered, "Delivering your bed."

M.J's mouth opened in surprise.

"I didn't order a bed."

Once again the cheeky grin. She was beginning to hate that grin. She wanted to smack it right off his face.

"No ma'am, you didn't. It's a gift, sent to you by..." He looked at the clipboard again and continued.

"Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel and Tina Cohen Chang. Our job was to get it here...intact...and set it up wherever you want it. Everything's paid for."

M.J was completely floored. She placed her hand over her mouth as her eyes became misty.

 _"Those fools...where would I be without them,"_ she said internally. The driver went on.

"This is Dave by the way, and I'm Earl...in case you're wondering," he stated, pointing to his partner and then to himself.

He proceeded to hand her the clipboard to sign off on the delivery.

"Want some help with that?" a familiar voice asked. M.J looked around in surprise.

 _"Sam...when did he get here?"_ she asked herself.

* * *

Sam moved in then, shaking each man's hand as he introduced himself.

"The more the merrier," the driver said, obviously glad for another set of hands.

"Oh, there are some packages in the back. I have strict instructions to make certain that you get them," the driver went on.

Just as Earl and Dave moved to the back of the truck, Sam swooped in closer to M.J. "Hi," he shyly said.

M.J looked up into his pretty eyes and was caught in a haze of green. She stood lost in those eyes and was brought out when he softly grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers.

She looked at their joined hands and butterflies swarmed in her stomach. She timidly raised her eyes back to his and said,

"Hi Sam."

With a crooked smile, Sam gently tugged her closer and softly kissed her cheek. "Hi beautiful. How're you keeping?"

M.J blushed at the compliment. She felt that familiar pull towards him.

"I'm fine Sam. As you can see, never a dull moment around here."

Sam chuckled softly. He used his other hand and started playing with her hair.

He was having an inner battle with himself. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he knew that if he did, he couldn't stop...at least not right at that moment, and she might not appreciate it with an audience. She was driving him crazy and she didn't even know it.

He leaned in, kissed her forehead and said, "Let's get your packages, and then I need to help those guys."

* * *

A few minutes later, she had all of her packages inside and the men were busy trying to set up the bed.

She went to a corner, away from them and started to open them.

The first one contained a king sized duvet and matching shams. The second one she opened, contained four king sized pillows. As she opened the third, small pillows tumbled out, and the very last one contained a set of white Egyptian cotton sheets and a note.

It read.

 _"Our Mercy needs a bed that will give her sweet dreams. We knew this was for you the minute we saw it. We love you and miss you. Santana, Kurt and Tina."_

Tears stung M.J's eyes as she read the note. "I love you too," she quietly said.

She left the room then, as secretly as she could, or so she thought.

Green eyes followed her movements until she was out. Sam had sensed that something had upset her, possibly what she had read. Just as he made up his mind to go after her, she came back...with drinks.

He stepped away and went to her, concern written all over his handsome face.

"Hey, are you okay?" Locking eyes with him, she answered confusedly,

"Yeah, why?" He stepped further into her personal space.

"Well...you looked as though you were about to cry earlier." It occurred to her then, that he saw when she read the note.

"I'm fine Sam. Those were happy tears. I just miss my family, that's all." Relief flooded Sam.

"Oh. Okay. When was the last time you saw them?" he asked. M.J thought about it.

"A few months before I came here. This was supposed to be a road trip, lasting no more than a week, but I just kept driving and making small detours along the way. Finally, I ended up here...this was the first place that really spoke to me."

Sam smiled.

"I'm really glad you decided to stop here," he said. Just as he leaned in to her, she stepped away and said,

"I need to call them. I'll be back in a bit."

She didn't give him a chance to reply. She was out the door like a shot from a gun.

* * *

Sam felt hurt.

Rejection isn't something he normally felt. It's always the other way around. Rejecting women and their advances are like second nature to him, because he's never felt that spark like he has with M.J.

She is the first woman in a very long time that he has felt drawn to.

He exhaled loudly and mumbled to himself, "For someone with short legs, she sure do move fast."

M.J knew that she had been a coward earlier when she gave Sam the brush off. Sam is the first guy since her late teens that she could possibly fall for...if she allow herself to.

She has tried for years to keep a low profile and stay away from men. _"Damn you Marcus Jones!"_ she said to herself.

She looked back to the stairs, praying that Sam didn't follow her, because at this precise moment, she couldn't handle a confrontation.

The hurt in his green eyes made her feel low, and she was sorry, but she just couldn't give in. It would destroy her if she allowed herself a chance with him and he found out who she was...and left her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. She exhaled slowly and repeated the process.

Feeling calmer, she took out her phone and called her family.

* * *

For the next hour and a half, she spoke to them, although separately, and forgot about her problems and...Sam.

She had caught Santana just before she was due in court, being a busy lawyer and all. They had a very brief but heartfelt conversation and promised to catch up later.

Kurt and Tina on the other hand, talked her ears off.

The two friends owned and ran a clothing company together, where Tina drew all of the clothes and Kurt brought them to life.

They updated her about their lives since she left and spoke about the two men they were currently smitten with.

Tina was seeing a guy called Mike and Kurt was crazy about a guy called Blaine. They let slip that Santana had found someone she was totally into, but they decided to let her tell M.J all about it.

After they had said their goodbyes, M.J sat and thought about how she was going to face Sam. Just then, her father popped into her mind and she quietly said, "I hate you Marcus Tyrone Jones."

* * *

 **Flashback to after Mercedes had knocked on the door of the police station:**

 _When the door opened, Mercedes recognized the person instantly._

 _It was one of Caribou's toughest, no-nonsense police officers, none other than Det. Sue Sylvester._

 _She was known for investigating and bringing criminals to justice in a timely fashion. She was as hard-nosed as they come, in fact, it was one of the names people call her...behind her back of course._

 _"What's going on here?" she asked. Her eyes landed on Katie and widened at the sight of her._

 _"My God!" she exclaimed and briskly moved through the door to help Katie to her feet. She turned to Mercedes._

 _"Can you go in and hold the door open? We need to get her inside."_

 _Mercedes moved and did as she was asked._

 _A battered Katie was brought in and led to a bench to rest._

 _"Did y'all have an accident?" she asked, already knowing the answer._

 _She's been at this job for over twenty years and she could tell when someone has been through hell._

 _"No," Mercedes said._

 _Detective Sylvester gave a slight nod as she studied the bruises on Katie's neck. She moved tentatively towards her and asked,_

 _"Can you tell me your name and your little friend's?" Katie looked up into the honest eyes of the detective and replied,_

 _"Mines Katie and that little angel is Mercedes. She saved my life."_

 _Mercedes broke then, she dropped to the floor and sobbed her little heart out. Katie too, as she looked on helplessly._

 _"Her father...he did this...he did this to me," she cried._

 _Detective Sylvester was taken aback, and rendered speechless. Her heart broke at the sight before her. She wasn't so tough that she couldn't feel, but hearing what she just heard...would bring even the toughest person to their knees._

 _She gently patted Katie's hand in sympathy, hoping to convey that she understood the situation. She moved to Mercedes and lifted her from the floor, placing her in a chair._

 _She took out her face cloth and wiped at the tears that were steadily flowing from Mercedes' eyes and said,_

 _"You did a great job kid. I'm really proud of you. This can't be easy...for a ten year old nonetheless. I'll get you both some water and something to eat."_

 _She stood to her full height and disappeared in the back room for a few minutes. She returned with two bottled waters and some cold cuts made into sandwiches._

 _As the girls ate, she said, "I need to make a couple of calls. One to the doctor and one to the Sheriff. They'll need to take pictures of you and there will be questions...lots of them. Are you up to any of that?"_

 _Katie looked at Mercedes...her little savior, she knew life as the ten year old knew it, was over. Her innocence was lost...at the hands of her father. How could she go on knowing he was a monster, and how will she be able to speak against him?_

 _As these questions sounded in her head, she had no doubt that this brave, strong little girl would go on and make it._

 _She vowed in her head to seek her out and be there for her as much as she could. They had a connection and she fully intended to keep it together._

 _Her eyes met those of the concerned detective and she determinedly answered, "Yes, I'll do whatever I have to do_."

 **End of flashback.**

* * *

Minutes later, as M.J walked up the stairs to her room, her conversation with Kurt replayed in her mind and his question reverberated in her head.

 _"Anyone on your radar yet?"_ he'd asked. She didn't answer right away, but Sam's handsome face and hurt green eyes invaded her mind right at that moment.

She shook her head to clear the image, and answered, _"No, no one as yet...but, it's not as if I'm looking. I have no time for any of that sort of thing."_

Kurt had sighed dramatically then. He knew his best friend really well and he knew what was holding her back.

 _"Mercy-me, this is me you're talking to. Honey, I've told you before, you can't let what your father did continue to rule your life. You have to get past that and live your life._

 _Some wonderful man out there is missing out on an equally if not more wonderful woman...that's you Mercy. You have so much to offer. You're beautiful, caring, compassionate, overly kind and the list goes on._

 _We all want you to be happy...even more than us...you deserve it... don't you think?"_

Tears flowed steadily down M.J's cheeks then. _"Maybe,"_ she answered.

She couldn't see it, but the moment she gave that answer, Kurt's misty eyes begun to leak. Sniffling, he whispered,

 _"No, you deserve that and more."_

By the time that they had wrapped up, Kurt had persuaded her to make him a promise. His words affected her more than he knew.

 _"I want you to promise me, that you will give some guy a chance...to know you and see how fabulous my Mercy-me is...okay?"_

She made the promise...but wonders if she can indeed follow through.

* * *

She made her way up the stairs and entered her room, trying to avoid the intense green gaze that fell on her.

She put on an airy disposition and cheerfully asked, "How's it going guys?"

Sam kept quiet. He knew exactly what she was doing.

Earl spoke up.

"Nearly finished ma'am. It's a good thing your boyfriend was here...me and Dave might've been stuck trying to figure out the instructions."

She went to correct him on his assumption that Sam was her boyfriend, but as her eyes met his, she kept her mouth shut.

The only thing she could come up with was, "Thank you Sam."

Sam's jaw clenched when she thanked him. He was angry. He didn't want her thanks.

He wanted what Earl thought to be true. He can freely admit that. Seeing her, being around her and touching her, confirmed what he felt from the first time he met her.

She draws him in, but she also shuts him out. He turned to the guys and said,

"You think you can finish without me? I have to go."

Earl and Dave could sense the tension in the room. They looked at each other and a silent conversation passed between them.

Earl said, "Sure buddy. You've been a great help. Thank you."

The three shook hands and Sam moved towards the door. He looked back at M.J, shook his head from side to side and left.

It took a couple seconds for M.J to understand what had happened. She took off behind him and called to him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Sam!"

He stopped but didn't look back. She made it down the stairs and said to him,

"Do you really have to go or is that an excuse to leave?" Sam remained as he was.

"Why do you care?" M.J was taken aback by the coldness in his voice.

"I... I don't..."

"Then why did you stop me?" M.J tried to backtrack from what she said.

"I didn't mean it like..." He turned then, his green eyes cold and calculating.

"Like what...what didn't you mean," he cut in. M.J thought before she answered.

"I didn't mean it the way you thought. I just meant that it probably wasn't my business to..." Once again he cut her off.

"That makes no sense...at all?"

M.J looked at him, hurt and annoyance radiating off of him.

She wanted to let go all of her insecurities in that moment and kiss him senselessly. Instead, she blurted,

"Maybe it doesn't, I don't know, okay? What do you want from me?"

Sam rounded on her, grabbing her and claiming her lips in a deep passionate kiss. He backed her onto the wall beside the door and thoroughly kissed her.

The need for air broke the kiss and they both stood staring into each other's eyes.

After he had calmed, he said, "You... I want you M.J...For God sakes, I've only known you for a few weeks, but I'm falling for you...known it since the first time we met.

You're all I think about. Can't you tell when a guy is interested in you. You drive me crazy."

At that he kissed her again, this time more slowly and tenderly. They broke the kiss after a while and Sam softly said,

"Think about it M.J...I'll be here waiting if you decide to open up and let me in. I'm not going anywhere...as long as it takes."

With that, he leaned in and placed a sweet lingering kiss on her plump lips. After that, he was gone and M.J was left in a mess.

* * *

 **This was a little bit shorter, but I hope it was still good enough.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for your continued interest in my stories. Whether you are following, have made them favorites or just read them, thank you. It makes me happy.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

 _Ten year old Mercedes Jones sat patiently and quietly, wondering what will happen next._

 _The Sheriff had arrived about an hour ago and was being briefed by Detective Sue Sylvester._

 _She heard a door open and close, bringing her from her thoughts, and the Sheriff appeared in her line of sight, sporting a kind smile._

 _He calmly approached her, offering her a candy bar and a soda. She gratefully accepted them with a polite "Thank you."_

 _She watched as he left and returned with a first aid kit and began to clean the various scratches, she didn't even knew she'd had, courtesy of her and Katie's long trek through the woods._

 _He smelled of Juicy Fruit gum and she quietly observed a yellow packet, sticking out of his top pocket. From that day on, she'd always associated that gum with kindness._

 _The Sheriff finished his ministrations and softly said,_

 _"Alright honey, you're all set. Your friend Katie has gone off to the hospital in the company of a very nice nurse. We've contacted your mom and she'll be here shortly. Is there anything I can get you?"_

 _Mercedes looked into the kind eyes of the Sheriff._

 _Her father used to look at her the same way. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to that small memory, but alas, that man was gone. A monster resided in his body instead._

 _She took a deep breath and exhaled it loudly, as she opened her eyes._

 _"No thank you. What's going to happen? Are you going to arrest my daddy?" Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he replied,_

 _"Try not to worry about that right now, okay?" She looked up at him, her brown eyes sad and said,_

 _"I saw him. I saw him when he came out of that hole in the woods. He looked all wrong, not like my daddy. I was afraid."_

 _The Sheriff's heart went out to her. He can't imagine the turmoil that she is going through._

 _"You don't have to be afraid anymore." At that, he broke protocol for a few moments and hugged her tightly._

 _Seconds later, he went out and sent in Det. Sylvester._

* * *

 _"How're you holding up little one," the detective kindly asked._

 _"I'm fine. Is Katie going to be okay?"_

 _Det. Sylvester marveled at the little girl in front of her. Although she has been through hell, seen things a child her age shouldn't, found out her father is a monster of the worst kind, she still found compassion and time to care about someone else._

 _"She'll get better. It will take some time, but she will, okay? She asked about you. She wants you to visit her at the hospital. Would you like to?"_

 _Emphatically, Mercedes answered, "Yes ma'am. I want to." This made Det. Sylvester smile._

 _"Okay, we'll see about getting you there. Now sweetheart, I have to ask you some really tough questions. Are you ready?"_

 _Mercedes held eye contact and shook her head in the affirmative._

 _"Good. Relax and answer as honest as you can, okay?"_ _She did as told. Det. Sylvester went on._

 _"Did your father ever hurt you?" Mercedes replied,_

 _"No. He never laid a hand on me or mama."_

 _"Good. Very good. Now...this one is a bit tougher. Did he ever touch you...in a bad way?" Mercedes maintained eye contact as she answered._

 _"You mean like he did Katie? He raped her. I know what rape is ma'am. In the Bible, the Sabine women were raped. He never did that to me...never touched me wrong."_

 _"Good. You did great kid..." Det. Sylvester was cut off by Mercedes asking,_

 _"I can't go home, can I?"_

 _Det. Sylvester looked at the little girl for a long moment. She looked lost, sad and afraid all at once. For a child so young, this harrowing ordeal must seem overwhelming. She should be at home playing with her dolls, or watching cartoons, simply having fun, but instead she was stuck in a real life nightmare...one that her father created._

 _"Not right now honey. I'm sorry."_

 _At that, she turned and stepped out of the room._

* * *

 _Mercedes rose a few minutes later, wanting some cold water. She remembered seeing a water fountain outside, so she decided to seek permission to go to it._

 _She stepped outside the little room and the sight before her halted her steps and rooted her to the spot. She couldn't move, even if she wanted to._

 _She saw a burly deputy dragging her father across the room to a big metal door. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he had a fresh bruise on his cheek. He didn't look wild now, or sorry. He had a contemptuous smile on his face, as if he was mocking the world and was proud of himself._

 _He locked eyes with her and she bravely waited for the angry tirade that was sure to follow. But he surprised her. He was completely indifferent. It was as if she was a stranger to him. He basically looked right through her._

 _As he walked towards the metal door and through it, she had a feeling that she would never see her father again._

 _No one seem to notice her, although the room was crowded with people, noise and something that sparked darkly in the air._

 _She vaguely wondered if anyone was to notice her, if their eyes would see her, or see right through her as her father's did._

 _She faintly heard words like, **FBI, forensics, serial killer** and **victims,** and felt a pressure on her chest, like when she'd fallen from the oak tree out back, and knocked the wind out of her. _

_The room began to spin slowly and then there was darkness._

* * *

 **Present day...**

M.J. yawned, as she made her way to her spanking new kitchen.

She'd hardly had any sleep the night before and it had nothing to do with her brand new bed, but all to do with a tall, very handsome green eyed man named... _Sam_.

His words sounded in her head all night long and she just couldn't make herself fall to sleep.

She would admit to anyone but him, how very attracted she was to him, but how very afraid she was also.

It was so easy all of these years, because she never allowed herself to get to close to those of the opposite sex.

She had tried dating, tried sex, but unlike her friends she didn't want a steady boyfriend. She enjoyed the attention and admiration of boys her age, but kept herself busy with school and her hobby.

As she prepared her breakfast, her thoughts drifted to her 'family'. She smiled to herself.

Kurt would go crazy if he saw Sam and knew he was interested in her...and she didn't return his advances.

She could just hear him now. _"Oh my gaga! Mercy-me are you crazy. That man is gorgeous. He wants you. What's wrong with you."_

She knows Santana would interrogate him, probably find something about him to insult, but she would genuinely try to get to know him. Tina on the other hand, is so sweet and trusting, she would just embrace Sam and treat him as if he was already a member of the 'family'.

She looked around the kitchen and quietly mumbled,

"I need to give Mary a call...probably do some shopping for dishes and glasses."

* * *

She walked through the house, making mental notes as she went along. So much work had been done to the old house. Dwight and his crew had out done themselves and she was still under budget.

There was mostly outside work to be done now.

She looked up at her new ceilings with the new chandeliers and new fans as she walked around, and for some reason, the house felt homey and comfortable, but still lonely.

Gone were most of the ugly faded walls, the eerie feeling that accompanied it and the old rotted carpeting that she absolutely hated.

The polished hardwood floors looked magnificent and brought a mental picture to her...of kids running and skating on sock clad feet whilst she and their dad looked on in amusement.

She suddenly snapped out of whatever dream that was, because the kids she pictured, didn't quite look like her. They were mixed, and of a lighter complexion than her. Their eyes were either hazel or green and the dad was... _Sam_.

She took her breakfast and headed to her favorite spot, the deck outside of her room, to enjoy the view whilst she ate.

* * *

Sam bombarded her thoughts again.

His smiling face loomed in front of her. His smile was sweet, and easy, but it was also very dangerous.

While she ate, she let her guard down and indulged herself with the memories of his heated kisses.

Half an hour later, she made a date with Mary, to go shopping for dinnerware and anything else she might need.

* * *

Mary arrived an hour after they spoke and was as excited as a child in a toy store.

"So M.J, what do you have in mind? I have some ideas, but let's hear yours." M.J thought for a few seconds.

"I'm thinking white with gold trimming for the dinnerware and for the glasses, plain with a simple gold trim around the rim or the middle."

Mary was impressed.

"Good choice. How about small appliances?" Once again, M.J hesitated for a beat.

"The ones that I have are white. I just need a microwave and blender, so I was thinking I should get those in white too. The kitchen is mostly blue, even the marble counter-tops have a bluish hue to it, so white would work."

Again Mary was impressed. This young lady knew her stuff and she knew exactly what she wanted.

* * *

Three hours later they were just about finished with their shopping and contemplating where to go to get a bite to eat, when they met Sam.

He arrived just as they sat down at a table on the outside of a small cafe, looking like pure sex.

He was wearing black fitted jeans, black boots, dark shades and a black sleeveless shirt, plastered to his torso.

"Hey son, fancy meeting you here. Having a slow day at the shop?"

He drew closer to his mother, his eyes trained on M.J and said, "Hi mom. Um...no, I just wanted to eat outside today. I saw your car...so..."

He left it at that, knowing she'd figure it out. He kissed her cheek, turned to M.J. and said, "Hey."

Poor M.J, she was in all kinds of trouble. Her tongue felt heavy and her heart felt as though it wanted to beat its way out of her chest.

He sat then, his eyes never leaving her persona and smiled internally at the way he was clearly affecting her.

About a minute later, she found her voice. She quietly said, "Hi Sam."

* * *

Mary looked on in amusement.

She dared not try anything too obvious with these two, she could see the end result already...M.J is going to make a wonderful daughter-in-law.

A waitress appeared then, looking to take their orders, and just like that the tension was broken.

Sam audibly cleared his throat looking between the two. His eyes found the many parcels around them and his curiosity peaked.

"So, what are you girls up to?" he asked. His mother spoke up.

"Me and M.J went shopping. Mostly for dinnerware...speaking of...you haven't been around lately for dinner with the family. Explain yourself Samuel Evans."

Sam was in a spot of bother.

He had no clear reason why he didn't attend family dinners. He looked back and forth between his mom and M.J, he even looked up to see if the waitress was on her way, so that he could buy some time to come up with an excuse, but no such luck.

He decided to bite the bullet and tell the truth.

"I have no excuse mom. I have been busy, but not so busy that I couldn't come. I promise to do better and attend more regularly."

Mary smiled sweetly at her son? An idea formed in her head.

"How about tonight? And M.J, you're invited too. I won't take no for an answer."

M.J felt like a fish out of water.

She had enjoyed it when Sam was put on the spot, now it was her turn. She couldn't make up an excuse, because she couldn't think of one at the moment. She was caught and about to be reeled in by Mary Evans.

"Sure mom," Sam replied and a few seconds later, M.J said,

"Thank you Mary. I'll be there."

Mary squealed and clapped like an excited child, who was told she could have candy for dinner.

"Well, now that we have that settled, let's eat. Here comes our food."

* * *

Lunch was a fairly quiet affair. Mary did most of the talking, and although she told herself she wouldn't meddle with these two, she decided to head home and leave them there.

She knows that Sam would have to take M.J home, because she drove with her. She clocked up an excuse and said her goodbyes.

"I'm sorry kids, but I have to get home. The twins are expecting me and Dwight to be there together, so that they can discuss some things with us. Sam would you be a dear and take M.J home? M.J darling, I will call you later. I have to go.."

At that, she kissed both their cheeks and shouted a cheery "Bye," to them.

Sam and M.J were left speechless. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. That was the catalyst, because minutes later the two were chatting and bantering like two peas in a pod.

The conversation landed on the house and painting specifically.

"So...what else have you got to do on that long list of yours?"

M.J debated for a few seconds before she answered.

"Painting the guest rooms that I have earmarked for my 'sister ' and best friends. After that, I'll retire my roller and pan. I hate painting."

A cheeky smile enveloped Sam's handsome face.

"Is that because you are challenged?...by height I mean." M.J looked insulted. She wanted to smack him.

"Ha ha! Everyone can't be like the Empire State Building."

Sam laughed. He liked to play with her and he liked to hear her talk. Her voice was like music to his ears.

"Why don't you let the painters finish paint everything? That's what they are there for."

The thought crossed her mind many times, but she told herself she would paint a certain amount of rooms and that is what she intended to do.

"I still have two more rooms that I said I would paint and then I will leave the rest to them. They don't have that much to paint inside anymore though, it's mostly the outside they have to do."

He nodded his head in understanding and decided to change the subject.

"Hey, about tonight, is it okay if I pick you up? Mom hasn't given us a time, but dinner always starts about seven thirty."

M.J's heart somersaulted in her chest. That nervousness associated with being in close proximity of Sam resurfaced.

She locked eyes with him, noting the sincerity in them and just like that, her answer was easy.

"Of course. Thank you Sam. Can I bring anything?" she asked. Sam released the breath he was holding and said,

"You can if you want, but you don't have to. Just your beautiful self and that will do."

M.J's face heated up at the compliment. This man will be the death of her. "Okay," she quietly replied.

They finished up their lunch and decided they should go.

Sam, ever the gentleman, took all of the packages and headed to his truck. After he had placed them in the back on the flatbed, he kindly escorted M.J to the passenger side and helped her in.

* * *

On the way to her house, the banter started up again.

"So, how does it feel to sleep in your huge new bed...alone?"

The question caught M.J off guard, but she caught the twinkle in his eyes and replied,

"It's just like any other bed, I don't feel any different. Besides, I bet you have a huge one too." Sam took his eyes off the road for a second to answer her.

"That's what she said."

M.J placed her head in her hands, shaking it from side to side. She walked right into that one. She smacked his toned arm and blushed.

"I meant your bed Sam. I bet your bed is huge enough to contain your tall frame." Sam chuckled. She was really providing the ammunition today.

"Care to find out how big it is?" he playfully asked. Again she smacked his arm.

"No Samuel. I'm not going anywhere near your bed," she stated. This amused Sam. He decided to goad her some more.

"Yet...but why not? I've been near yours. I know what your bed looks like, as a matter of fact, I helped un-boxed it and put it together."

He had a point and M.J couldn't dispute that.

"Yes, I know all of that, but unlike you, I didn't and won't get any ideas about you and my bed. I'm not sleeping with you, so there."

Any other time that might have hurt Sam's feelings, but not today. Those walls around her heart are going to crumble, he will make certain of that.

Again he answered, "Yet..."

He left that hanging in the air, as she turned her head to look out the window.

For the moment, he contented himself with the company of the mysterious woman beside him.

He felt as though someone had given him a puzzle. He just had to solve it.

He knows he will figure her out, sooner or later, but he was banking on sooner.

* * *

 **A bit short, but I am writing these stories all in one go. I hope it was good enough.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for your continued support. It means more than my words can express. Much love to you.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

 _After a brief fainting spell, ten year old Mercedes Jones sat pondering the current situation she was in._

 _Her father was a monster and he was going to jail, possibly for the rest of his natural life._

 _Thoughts ran rampart through her young mind._

 _"How can I go back to school? Or church? Or the market with mom? Everyone will know what happened. What my father did. What I did," she internally rambled._

 _Just then, her mother arrived._

 _She looked sick, as if she has been ailing for days._

 _In the few hours since she's seen her mom, she looked thinner and older. Her eyes were red, puffy and still had tears in them._

 _Her usual immaculate hair was all over the place, as if it hadn't been combed for a while, and her clothes looked baggy and ill fitting._

 _In that moment, Mercedes wanted nothing more, than to be in her mother's arms, seeking comfort and giving some._

 _She stood on wobbly feet, hoping to press her face into her mother's bosom, a place where there was guaranteed comfort._

 _Fat tears rolled down her mother's cheeks, coupled with guttural sobs and in a matter of seconds, her mom was on the floor, covering her face in her hands._

* * *

 _A torn, heartbroken Mercedes, rushed to her mother, placing her small hands around her, gently rubbing her, as she spoke soothing words._

 _"It's all right mama. We'll be alright."_

 _Her mum pulled back, looking intently into her eyes, searching for a shred of hope._

 _"Mercedes, they're saying terrible things about your daddy. They're saying it's you, who's saying them."_

 _Mercedes repeated her earlier mantra._

 _"It's alright mama. We'll be alright." Her mom continued._

 _"This can't be true." She grabbed her daughter's face and fiercely said,_ _"You imagined it. You had a bad dream. You hear me?" Ten year old Mercedes said,_

 _"Mama, I saw..." She was cut off by her mother saying,_

 _"No! You didn't. You have to tell them you made a mistake."_ _Mercedes didn't back down._

 _"I didn't make a mistake. Katie...the girl he had...she's in the hospital." Fire blazed in her mother's eyes, all of a sudden._

 _"She's lying. She has to be lying. Mercedes, he's your daddy, your own blood. He's my husband. The police are going all over our home. They put your daddy in handcuffs and took him away."_ _Little Mercedes held her ground._

 _"I cut the ropes off of her myself." Her mother angrily replied,_

 _"No you didn't. You're going to stop this lying right now and tell everybody that you made it all up."_

* * *

 _A dull ache filled Mercedes' head, making her own voice sound flat and hollow._

 _"I pulled the tape off of her mouth. I helped her get out of that hole in the ground. She could hardly walk and she didn't have on any clothes."_

 _A shout left her mom's lips then._

 _"No..."_ _Mercedes went on._

 _"He raped her."_

 _"Don't you say such a thing," her mom screamed. She held her daughter and shook her, saying, "Don't...you...dare."_

 _A brave Mercedes continued._

 _"There were pictures on the wall...lots of them...of other girls mama. There were knives with blood dried on them, and rope...and..."_ _Once again she was cut off by her mom._

 _"I don't want to hear this."_ _At that, she clamped her hands over her ears, as more tears fell from her eyes._

 _"How can you say all of this? How can I believe all of this? He's my husband. I lived with him for twelve years. I've slept in the same bed with him...night after night. I bore him you."_

 _The fire within her, died down then. She completely deflated. She dropped her head onto her daughter's shoulder and quietly said,_

 _"What are we going to do? What's to become of us?" Once gain, Mercedes resorted to her mantra._

 _"It's alright mama. We'll be alright. We'll be alright mama."_

* * *

 **Present day...**

M.J looked at the mountain of clothes strewn haphazardly across her huge bed and released a weary sigh.

In a few hours, she will be having dinner with the Evans', including Sam, and she still hadn't decided on what she was going to wear.

Her thoughts drifted to him and her heart rate sped up. She was scarily excited about seeing him and being close to him, for the second time that day.

She picked up a red top and threw it back on the pile.

"Oh, for goodness sake. It's only dinner...get a grip," she said to herself.

Even as she said those words, she knew it was anything but. Not only was Sam going to be there, he was coming to pick her up, take her there, and quite possibly, bring her home again.

His sweet smile came to mind and she found herself smiling.

Lately, it seemed as though she had no control over her feelings, when thinking about him or being around him.

She scanned the clothes again, and her eyes landed on the perfect outfit. She promptly separated it from the heap and moved to put the rest away.

Half an hour later, she had finished her task, and was now looking for accessories to go with her outfit.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Over at Sam's house, he was casually lying on his bed, facing the ceiling, and thinking about the night ahead.

He was really looking forward to dinner at his parents' home.

Yes, he missed going over there, spending time with his family and catching up on whatever was happening with the twins, but tonight, none of those things were at the forefront, M.J occupied that spot. She was the reason he was really looking forward to going.

He laughed internally at himself then.

For the past few years, there's been dozens of women seeking him out, even throwing themselves at him, but not once did he ever took the bait. Then along comes the mysterious M.J, minding her own business, and he's hooked, line and sinker.

He took his phone out then, aiming to take a selfie. He did just that and as he looked at it, he quietly said,

"Just as I thought. A silly grin and hearts in my eyes. I'm a goner."

* * *

Over at the Evans' household, Mary had just finished prepping for dinner that night.

Dwight and Stacie were also roped into helping in the kitchen, whilst Stevie tidied the already sparkling house.

"I can feel it Dwight, tonight is going to be a great night. I want everyone on their best behavior. Stevie, that mostly goes for you. I know you like to fret Sam and wind him up, but, I'm asking you to leave that out tonight."

Dwight shook his head at his wife's words. He knows she's up to something, even if she says she isn't.

Stacie chuckled to herself and Stevie rolled his eyes. In unison, the three replied, "Yes ma'am."

A smile graced Mary's features.

"Thank y'all very much. Now shoo. Go find something nice to wear to dinner and Stevie, tame the head of yours. Come along Dwight honey, I'll help you pick something out."

Once again, the three repeated their actions from before and even replying together, "Yes ma'am."

* * *

At five minutes to seven, M.J was putting on the finishing touches to her ensemble. She had almost finished applying her lip gloss, when she heard a knock.

She knew who it was immediately, because her heart had begun to beat wildly, and nervousness had set in.

She moved to the door and opened it.

Her jaw dropped.

Sam was standing there, looking like every teenage girl, hell...every woman's wet dream.

Her eyes raked over him from head to toe, in an approving manner.

Gone was the scruff, leaving plain, kissable, smooth cheeks and his hair looked neater, as though he had trimmed it.

He was clad in black jeans, black fitted tee, a beige and black finely striped over shirt with a zip and black boots.

Her thoughts took over then. _"How can one man be this gorgeous? And this sexy?"_

At the sound of him clearing his throat, she locked eyes with him. A familiar lopsided smile graced his features and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

Sam stepped in then, and gently lifting her chin, said,

"Hey, none of that now. I feel special and honored to have you look at me the way you just did. Besides, I don't think you registered the way I was looking at you. You look absolutely gorgeous M.J. It's gonna be hard trying to keep my hands to myself."

She was a vision in a tight black, knee length skirt and a black shirt, sheer from just over her bust line all the way up to the shoulders. She wore gold hoop earrings and black three inch heels.

"Are you ready?" he softly asked.

M.J looked at the handsome man in front of her. It would be so easy to fall for him, if she allowed herself. He was the most genuine man she has met in a long time...besides her Kurt, of course.

She nodded her head in confirmation, because she didn't trust herself to speak. She picked up her purse, her phone and keys, and headed outside.

As Sam trailed behind her, his eyes roved her short stature. He realized in that moment, that walking behind her, was something he liked to do.

He took in the way that the skirt made her butt looked, as it deliciously rolled and bounced, and he had to stifle the groan that was half way up his throat.

He bit his lip, almost painfully, as he felt a tightening in his pants, and at once turned his mind onto his least favorite person, which was his old high school girlfriend, so as not to embarrass himself.

After helping her into his truck, they set off.

* * *

On the way, M.J seemed more at ease, as they kept up a lively conversation.

"It isn't often that my mom has company for dinner, so if it seems a little extreme when you get there, remember that." M.J smiled.

"That's okay Sam. It's not often that someone invites me to dinner either. I'm sure everything will be fine. Hey, can we make a short detour? I know you said I didn't have to bring anything, but I'd like to, anyway."

A smile and a nod from Sam gave confirmation.

A short while later, they pulled up to a small convenience store and Sam, ever the gentleman, helped her from the truck.

They moved towards the store and he was still holding her hand, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Once inside, they separated, moving to peruse different aisles.

He met up with her minutes later.

She was standing on her toes trying to reach a bottle of sparkling wine on one of the top shelves. His jaw dropped as he shamelessly stared at her and he added that as another favorite thing of his to do.

He moved behind her then, pressing his torso into her soft body, as he took the bottle down. He brought it under her arm and held it in front of her.

M.J couldn't move even if she wanted to. Sam's solid presence behind her, totally reminded her of what she has been missing...for years.

He was all man.

His taut stomach and sturdy chest, made her feel safe and secure.

Her thoughts began to run wild, as she imagined what it would feel like to have him shirtless and wrapped around her.

She turned then, shyly looking up to him, and said, "Thank you Sam."

He in turn, leaned in, kissed her cheek and softly replied, "My pleasure."

Once again, he took her hand, headed to the cashier, paid for the wine and left.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were pulling into the driveway of his parents' home.

M.J was in awe.

The house was sprawling. The front garden was well kept and had some of the prettiest flowers she's ever seen.

Sam stood watching her with a dreamy expression on his handsome face, as she took in her surroundings. The urge to kiss her was extremely strong, but he held back. He wanted to let nature take its course.

Wordlessly, he moved to stand beside her and gently placed his hand on her back, just above her bum. He felt her shiver at his touch and he smiled to himself.

Seconds later, he knocked on the door and smiled as it promptly opened.

* * *

Mary had just started to place the food on the table when she heard Sam's truck drive up.

A huge smile lit up her features.

She made a call to the others and gave each a last look over, before clapping her hands in glee.

"Is everyone ready? Sam just drove up." At that, Dwight went to the door, and opened it, with the twins standing a short distance behind him.

He was met by a smiling M.J, holding a bottle of some kind, in her hand, and a dreamy looking Sam, with a dopey grin on his face.

"Hi M.J. Welcome to our home," he said, and immediately embraced her.

He locked eyes with his son, over her shoulder and smiled knowingly.

He pulled back then, hearing her muffled reply of "Thank you Dwight," and reached his hand out to Sam, saying,

"Son, it's good to see ya."

Sam didn't miss the twinkle in his dad's eyes. He shook his hand in return and pulled him into an embrace.

"It's good to see you too, dad."

He looked up then, hearing the shuffle of feet, and as soon as he released his dad, his sister Stacie was in his arms.

"Hi Sammy. I'm so glad you're here. I really missed you at dinner."

Her words made Sam feel awful. His sister looked up to him, always has. She would seek him out first, if she had a problem and dinner nights were usually their time to get together and catch up.

"I missed you too Stace. I promise not to stay away so long next time."

At that, he looked over at M.J, who was watching their interaction, with a sweet smile on her face. Stacie followed his eyes and quickly detached herself from him.

She shyly moved towards M.J, embraced her and said,

"Hi M.J. Welcome to our home." A touched M.J returned her hug warmly and softly replied,

"Thank you Stacie. I'm honored to be here."

As they released each other, a shy Stevie walked up, standing with his hands in his pockets, and quietly said,

"Hi M.J. It's nice to see you again. Welcome."

M.J was touched once again. She took a quick glance around her, noting that all three Evans men were standing with their hands in their pockets. They were almost identical in features and height.

She smiled internally and moved towards Stevie, surprising him with a hug.

"Thank you Stevie. I feel really welcomed." Dwight broke the sentimental moment by kindly saying,

"Let's head in, Mary might be wondering where we are." As the words left his lips, his wife's voice sounded.

"No she isn't. I'm getting in on this too." With that, she walked towards M.J and enveloped her in a hug.

"Welcome darling. I'm so happy you could make it."

M.J felt just about ready to cry. She hasn't felt this loved in a long time. By her 'family' yes, but not by anyone else, that she's met.

"Thank you Mary. I'm glad to be here." A smiling Mary released her and turned to her son.

"Sam, thank you for coming son. You look very nice, in fact, you both do." A blushing Sam, sweetly placed a kiss on his mother's cheek and quietly said,

"Thanks mom."

* * *

Minutes later, they were all sitting and eating, with a nice conversation going.

Mary, in all of her planning, sat the twins beside each other, her and Dwight on each end of the table, and Sam and M.J beside each other. She internally gave herself the proverbial pat on the back.

Dwight was saying,

"So, M.J, I have one more week to invade your space and then I'm through. Have no fear though, it'll only be me doing the finishing touches. The crew is moving on to another job on the outskirts of town."

M.J smiled appreciatively. "Wow! Thank you Dwight. The house looks wonderful. You did a great job, and I'm forever in your debt."

Dwight smiled widely and lifted his glass towards her saying, "Thank you ma'am. It was a team effort, you included."

* * *

More small talk went on as M.J began to feel more and more at home.

Sam's presence beside here didn't go unnoticed. Every movement he made, she felt it. Their hands were constantly in contact and so were their legs.

Just then, Stevie directed a question at her.

"Do you sing M.J? Your voice seems made for it. You have a nice voice."

M.J blushed at his compliments, whilst Sam looked on with skepticism. Stacie chuckled to herself, whilst Dwight and Mary eyed each other knowingly.

"Thank you Stevie, but I don't. I used to...long ago, but I'm more into writing these days."

Stevie's ears pricked up. He glanced quickly at his brother's face and back to M.J.

"Oh? What kind of songs do you write? I like writing too."

Stacie, Dwight and Mary all but laughed out loud, as the lie left Stevie's lips. Everyone except M.J, knew how hard it was, to get him to attempt even a simple essay.

Sam on the other hand, looked fit to strangle his brother. He stared at him, willing him to look in his direction, but he didn't.

M.J, oblivious to all that was going on, answered,

"That's wonderful Stevie. Maybe we can get together and collaborate, you know...write a hit and make it big." A huge smile spread across Stevie Evans' face.

"You mean it? That would be so great."

M.J shook her head yes, smiling as she did so.

* * *

Stevie continued to chat up M.J as dinner wore on, and Sam continued to stew.

After a while, things took a turn for the worst, when Stevie innocently asked,

"Can I come over some time, and sit with you while you're writing a song?" Politely, M.J said,

"Sure Stevie. I'd like that."

That was it for Sam.

He roughly placed his cutlery on his plate and said,

"No you can't. What's wrong with you Stevie? It's like you're inviting yourself over to M.J's. I know mom and dad taught you better than that."

Mary stood, looking at both her boys. She locked eyes with her eldest and said,

"Pardon us. Sam, can I see you in the kitchen please?"

Sam stood, looking apologetically at M.J, and shooting daggers at his brother.

With a slight nod in his mother's direction, he said, "Lead the way."

* * *

In the kitchen, Mary held up her hands, just as Sam was going to speak.

"I know, I know. Stevie went a bit overboard, but..." She was cut off by Sam saying,

"A bit mom? He hogged the whole conversation. He monopolized M.J and he completely ignored everyone else."

Mary looked at her son, really looked at him. He was jealous and that could mean only one thing. He wasn't just smitten by M.J, he was head over heels in love with her.

"Calm down son. Stevie's harmless. He's just a kid. He would never cross the line where M.J's concern, especially if he knows that you're in love with her."

Her words shocked Sam.

He looked at his mother, holding her gaze, and seeing no jest in them. Finally, his posture slackened and he stuttered out,

"H...How...did you know that? I haven't mentioned anything...to anyone." His mom walked to him, palming his cheeks. Kindly, she said,

"Oh Sammy, honey, you don't have to say anything. It's written all over your sweet face. Everyone can see it...except, maybe M.J.

Here's my piece of advice. You don't have to take it, but at least consider it. Take your time with her. I think she's been hurt and she's afraid to let anyone near her heart.

Be her friend first and foremost. Administer your love in small doses and when the time is right, hit her with everything you've got. She's the one Sam, I can feel it. One last thing, cut your brother some slack."

Sam smiled and brought his mother into the circle of his arms, gently squeezing her, as he allowed her words to sink in.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the table, Dwight had immersed M.J in conversation, to break the awkward tension in the room.

Stacie, on the other hand, turned to her brother, and gave him a swift kick, causing him to cry out. She eyed her father and M.J, noting that they were still deep in conversation, and quietly said to Stevie,

"You don't know when to quit do you? Can't you see Sammy's into her? This is the first girl that he has liked, in a really long time and you made him jealous, you moron."

Poor Stevie. He didn't mean to make his brother jealous, he just liked talking to M.J. He felt properly chastised.

"I didn't mean to...I swear Stace. It's just so easy to talk to M.J...she's really nice. He's pissed at me. I just know it," he dejectedly said.

Stacie softened as she looked at her twin. She loved him, just as much as she loved Sam, and she knew they both loved each other.

She patted his hand gently and said to him,

"I know you didn't Stevie and I bet Sam knows it too. Just apologize to him and back off of M.J for a while."

He nodded his head in understanding.

Just then, Sam and his mom returned. He walked over to Stevie, who was looking all kinds of scared, and ruffled his hair saying,

"It's okay. We're okay."

A surprised Stevie, immediately felt at ease. He locked eyes with his mother and she sent him a sweet smile. From that moment, dinner went on without a hitch and everyone had something to speak about.

* * *

A while later, after they'd all had dessert, Mary Evans struck again.

She all but forced Sam to take M.J on a tour around the house, including the grounds and beautiful gardens.

As they walked through the gardens, heading out to the grounds, which were lined with trees, Sam decided to make a move.

He looked up at the cloudless, starry sky, noting how beautiful it looked. It was perfect.

Next, he looked at the woman beside him, noting how very beautiful she looked, as the low lights around the grounds caught her complexion, enhancing it and making it glow.

As they reached the first tree, he gently grabbed her, bringing her flush to him, and looking deeply into her eyes.

"I'm so happy you accepted my mom's invitation to dinner, M.J...and her idea to take you on a tour, that was the cherry on top...because, it gave me another opportunity to do this.."

He leaned in then, claiming her lips, in a deep, passionate kiss.

M.J was taken by surprise at first, but she quickly got into it and in a matter of seconds, the kiss turned fiery. He backed her onto the tree, hoisting her up and wrapping her thick legs around him, as their tongues battled for dominance.

In the process, her short skirt rode higher up her legs, exposing more of her soft, pretty skin.

Sam's body had long since reacted, and he couldn't help but to grind himself into her, as he continued to plunder her mouth.

* * *

M.J felt hot all of a sudden, as though someone had lit a fire under her skin.

It's been a long time since she's felt anything, remotely close to what she's feeling. Even the rough bark of the tree against her back, felt good.

She held onto his neck and strong shoulders as he moved from her lips to her jaw, all the way down to her neck, kissing and finally sucking hard on the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder.

He knows he's going to leave a mark, but he didn't care. He wanted the world to know she was taken, even though she wasn't his officially.

Their moans and groans punctuated the quiet atmosphere and Sam had the strongest urge to take her, then and there. It took everything within him, to take things down a notch or two.

He slowly brought them down from their high, with soft kisses all over her face.

He'd be damned if their first time occurred against a tree. She deserved better than that.

He smiled at the small whine that escaped her, when he placed her back on her feet. After a series of small pecks, he brought her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

In his mind, he screamed and punched the air, internally saying,

 _"A point to Evans, as one more wall comes tumbling down."_

He pulled back after a while, placing his forehead onto hers, and softly asked, "Ready to go?"

M.J looked up into his eyes, and what she saw there scared her. Words didn't come at that moment. The only thing she could do, was to nod her head yes.

With that, he pecked her lips, took her hand and moved towards the house.

* * *

 **I'm not a hundred percent happy with this installment, but it was written under duress and mostly late at night. My mind is currently occupied with hurt and worry for my cousin and her son. Her husband(her son's dad)died tragically on Saturday, whilst on his job. Anyway, I hope this was good enough.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for your continued support. Here is my latest attempt at an update. Except for the flashback, this was written all in one go.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

 _Ten year old Mercedes Jones wasn't the average kid._

 _She didn't have video games at home, or a computer, but she had enough friends who did, to know the basics._

 _One of those friends was her bestie, Kurt Patrick Hummel._

 _He was the prettiest boy she knew and the only one who always wanted to play with girls._

 _His father Burt Hummel, was a teacher by profession, who taught English and Literature at the high school. His step-mum Carole was a librarian. She was well versed in books and the law._

 _Mercedes' other friends, Santana Lopez and Tina Cohen-Chang, were as different as night and day. Whilst Santana was a little Latina spitfire, Tina was shy and always quick to cry._

 _The four friends were like peas in a pod. They always stick together, no matter the situation. This time was no different._

* * *

 _Seeing that Mercedes and her mom wasn't allowed to go home, Burt and Carole took them in. They had called a doctor, who, incidentally was Tina's father and Mercedes' mom was given something to make her sleep._

 _Carole had gone to their house, under police supervision and was allowed to gather clothes and toiletries for them._

 _For the first time since the ordeal started, Mercedes was able to take a shower, put on her own clothes, tie her hair back and feel more like herself._

 _As she walked across the hall from the bathroom, she came to the room she and her mom were staying in. She opened it to check on her mom, and saw her three best friends sitting on the bed._

 _At first, she was a bit put off. Her mom was inconsolable earlier and she just couldn't handle that again, at least not yet._

 _"Don't wake her," she hissed._

 _When all three turned to look at her, she immediately felt bad for using such a sharp tone. They had all been crying, even Santana._

 _"We're just watching over her," Tina softly said._

 _Mercedes' heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach, as the other two nodded in agreement._

 _These were her friends. They banded with her when Rachel Berry booed and mocked her, and told her she couldn't sing. They even banded with her when Finn Hudson refused to be her friend, because Rachel asked him not to._

 _"I'm sorry guys. I didn't mean to bite your head off. Come with me, if she wakes up, she'll start crying again."_

 _All three did as told without arguing, which was a rare thing for Santana. A few minutes later, the four were hunkered down over a Nintendo in the Hummel's family room, playing Donkey Kong._

* * *

 _Later on, Santana and Tina said their goodbyes, and Kurt grudgingly went to the market with his dad, to get a few supplies._

 _Mrs. Jones was still out for the count, so Mercedes went to find Carole. She found her in the kitchen._

 _"Hi Miss Carole." At the sound of Mercedes' voice, Carole turned to her and smile._

 _"Hi honey, don't you look nice. How are you feeling?"_

 _Ten year old Mercedes pondered her question for a beat. She inhaled and exhaled audibly._

 _"I'm feeling much better, thanks."_

 _And she really did too. She still wished that it was all a bad dream she would wake from any moment, but in reality, she knew it wasn't._

 _"Very good. It'll get better. You just have to keep the faith."_

 _Little Mercedes knew all about faith. During the time that she rescued Katie from that hell hole in the ground, her faith was tested and weakened, but she held firm._

 _"Thank you Miss Carole. Um...your house is so nice Miss Carole," she kindly said._

 _"Why thank you. I'm happy you think so. I want you to be very comfortable while you're staying here."_

 _"How long will we be staying here, Miss Carole?"_

 _"I'm not sure, maybe a few days, or for as long as you and your mom want. Are you okay with that darling?" Carole asked._

 _As much as Mercedes wanted to be home, she wished she didn't have to go back to that house ever again._

 _Knowing what was back in the deep woods and knowing what had lived in the same house, the same rooms and eaten at the same table, made her wish to be someplace else._

 _"I'm okay with that Miss Carole. Thank you." Carole Hummel was touched beyond words._

 _"Oh honey, you don't have to thank me. You are like family to us. Families take care of each other. It's just the way it is. Hey, have you ever made lemonade from scratch?"_

 _Mercedes replied, "No ma'am."_

 _"That's a shame. It's a treat. It takes a while, but it's worth it."_

* * *

 _As Carole moved around the kitchen, Mercedes noticed she didn't wear an apron. She had a dishcloth tucked into the waist of her pants._

 _Her father didn't like her mom to wear pants. He believed that women were supposed to wear skirts and dresses._

 _As thoughts about her father filtered through her mind, she heard his voice in her head and her stomach twisted in knots. She turned her thoughts aside._

 _"Miss Carole, do you know what will happen next?" she asked. Carole turned to look at her, knowing exactly what she was asking about._

 _"I can't say for certain. The FBI's in charge now. From what I know about these cases, they gather evidence, take statements and your daddy will have a lawyer. Listen darling, I know it's hard, but I think it'd be for the best if you try not to worry about all of that, okay?"_

 _Little Mercedes nodded her head._

 _She went quiet for a moment, and Carole could tell that something was weighing on her mind. She decided to be patient and let her speak when she was ready._

 _"I can't worry about daddy, but I have to take care of my mama." Tears stung the backs of Carole's eyes._

 _"Oh baby girl, somebody's got to take care of you too," she softly said. Mercedes cast her eyes downward. She said,_

 _"Mama won't know what to do without daddy there to tell her." Carole pulled Mercedes into a warm hug._

 _"It's not for you to hold everyone else up. Come, let's finish our lemonade."_

* * *

 _That day, she learned to make the lemonade from scratch and ate a grilled cheese sandwich. A combination that would forever become her comfort food of choice._

 _As her mother slept through the day, Mercedes for the first time in her life, begged for chores. Carole obliged her and allowed her to weed the little flower garden out back._

 _When she was done, she gave into fatigue, stretched out on the grass in the shade and slept._

* * *

Present day...

M.J felt tired.

She spent most of the night tossing and turning, until finally, she decided to get up and get busy. Who knew cleaning and rearranging rooms in the dead of the night could be so liberating.

The only thing is, when the adrenaline wears off, there is nothing but tiredness.

Currently, she is sitting in her room, clad in a towel, putting on her favorite body lotion, as she recalls the events that took place the night before.

 _After M.J and Sam had wished the Evans' goodnight, the two headed for his truck and got in._

 _It was just past ten o'clock, and Sam didn't want to part ways yet. He took a quick glance in her direction, seeing her with her head downcast and fidgeting with her nails._

 _He decided to breach the silence._

 _"Hey, is it okay if we take a different road, kind of longer, but much more interesting."_

 _M.J's head snapped up. She was lost in her thoughts about the increasing feelings she was having for him and about him. That kiss they shared earlier, broke one of her barriers, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it._

 _She locked eyes with him for a second and quietly answered, "Sure."_

 _They drove for a few more minutes in complete silence, until Sam couldn't take it any more. He decided to test out a theory._

 _"So, did you have a good time tonight?" Just as he had expected, she gave a one word reply._

 _"Yes." He continued nonetheless._

 _"And Stevie, I never saw him quite so talkative before. I think he has really taken to you."_

 _He watched as she turned her head to the side, looking out through the glass window, just before she answered. "Oh?"_

 _Persistent as ever, Sam Evans continued._

 _"Yes, I think he really has. So...how would you rate the dinner? One to ten." She hesitated for a beat, then answered._

 _"Ten."_

 _"How about the conversations? One to five." A ghost of a smile appeared on her face._

 _"Five." Sam was relentless._

 _"The company...same as before."_

 _"Five."_

 _"The kiss...one to ten this time."_

 _That stumped her. She wasn't looking for that. An emotional battle for dominance began within her. Nervousness attacked her also and she felt hot all of a sudden._

 _"Wh..what?" she stuttered out._

 _Sam saw the effect his question had on her. He saw what she was feeling clearly written on her face, but he also saw her trying to disguise it._

 _"I think you heard me M.J. The kiss, how would you rate it...one to ten, with ten being the highest."_

 _Helplessness attacked her next. She began to aimlessly pull at the hem of her dress, delaying the inevitable. Sam remained patient. Finally, she responded._

 _"Ten."_

 _A celebration went off in Sam's head, but he knows he has a long way to go...with her. A huge smile lit up his handsome features._

 _He idly reached across the console, took her hand away from her dress and laced their fingers. He felt her stiffen at first, but eventually she relaxed and a genuine smile appeared on her face._

 _The rest of the journey continued in silence, but a comfortable silence._

* * *

 _As they approached her home, Sam's heart sunk lower in his chest. He still didn't want to part ways yet._

 _He knew there was either something remotely bothering her or she needed to get something off her chest. Either way, he wasn't expecting it to be favorable._

 _He came to a stop in front of the house, but instead of getting out to help her from the truck, he held the clasp of the seatbelt._

 _M.J was taken aback. She locked eyes with him and held his gaze._

 _"Sam, what are you doing? We're here." He replied,_

 _"I know where we are...and...I'm not about to do anything crazy. Trust me."_

 _M.J turned as much as she could in her seat, to look at him._

 _"Then why do you have the buckle holding?" A serious Sam answered._

 _"I get the feeling that you have something to say to me. There's a lot of tension going on here. I can feel it."_

 _Deflecting, M.J said, "I don't know what you are talking about. Now, can you please let me out?"_

 _"No, not until you say what you have to say. I'm all ears."_

 _M.J was getting annoyed. She tried to pry his long fingers off the buckle, but she wasn't strong enough._

 _"Sam, stop playing and let me out."_

 _Sam nodded his head from side to side and stood his ground. She tried at his hand again, but to no avail._

 _"Tripping! You're straight up tripping. Let me out Sam."_

 _Sam could sense that she was getting angry. He could care less. She was adamant and her words more forceful._

 _"I'm not tripping M.J, and no, I won't let you out. Not until you say what you have to say. Now spill."_

* * *

 _A stubborn M.J crossed her arms over her chest and stared incredulously at him._

 _"What's wrong with you?" she asked. Sam replied._

 _"Nothing is wrong with me. I just want you to open up to me. Is that so hard?"_

 _M.J felt as though she could slap the white off of him. She rolled her eyes, shook her head and almost shouted at him._

 _"I don't know what you want me to say."_

 _Sam almost let go of the buckle, seeing the nervous look on her face. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her, everything will work out, if she just let go and let him in._

 _"I want you to tell me what is going on inside that head of yours. I want you to tell me, what you're feeling, after our kiss...which wasn't the average kiss. I want you to tell me, that I didn't imagine us making some type of headway tonight and I want you to tell me, how you feel about me."_

 _M.J was well and truly stumped, not only that, she was backed into a corner and she felt trapped._

 _Angrily, she spewed out the first words that came to mind._

 _"Hold up. Who the hell do you think you are? My thoughts are private. I don't have to tell you one damn thing, Sam Evans."_

 _Sam held strong. He rebutted._

 _"Hey, first of all, I'm me, Sam Evans. I've never professed to be anyone else before. Secondly, you're right. You don't have to tell me anything, but you know what? That's just a way to stall or deny whatever you are feeling. I can see it M.J, I may be blonde, but I ain't dumb."_

 _M.J stared him down, but Sam didn't waiver. He could see her mentally building that brick wall, but he wasn't worried. He intends to break everyone of those walls down and ground them into dust._

 _"And what is it that you see?" she asked. Sam thought for a few seconds, as he wisely chose his words._

 _"I see a beautiful woman who is scared to let anyone in, especially anyone that is male. I see a woman torn over her beliefs and the new feelings that has taken root in her. I see a woman, a strong woman, a passionate woman, who...if she just lets go, could be so happy, with a guy who is head over heels in love with her."_

* * *

 _A sharp intake and an audible exhale, told Sam that he had hit the nail right on the head._

 _He watched her look away, then duck her head, allowing his words to sink in._

 _For the first time since he's met her, he feels a shift in the weight on his shoulder. It's still there, but it feels much lighter._

 _He didn't say anything else. He sat for a few minutes more and when she didn't say anything, he exited his truck, went around to her side and opened the door._

 _M.J was rendered speechless and she remained that way. What could she say to that? She had no words._

 _She didn't even realize that he had gotten out of the truck, until she felt him reach over her and undo the seatbelt. She held his gaze as he offered her his hand and helped her from the truck._

 _He continued to hold her hand as he escorted her to the door._

 _On reaching there, he leaned in, softly kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. Ever the gentleman, he waited until she got in and locked the door, before he drove off._

 _A robotic M.J slowly walked to her room and flopped onto her bed. There will be no sleep for her tonight._ **'In the morning, things will be clearer. I will call my 'family' and speak to them,'** she thought to herself.

* * *

She is yet to make that call.

Presently, she has finished her beauty regime, and started looking through her drawers for a bra and underwear.

Just as she found them, she heard a knock on her door, so she started looking for something to put on.

Hearing the persistent knock, she decided to throw caution to the wind and find out who was there. She quietly walked downstairs, towards the door and asked,

"Who's there?" Just as quietly, the voice said,

"It's Sam."

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

She looked down at herself and softly swore, bare feet and still only clad in a towel.

Her bra and underwear, were currently lying exactly where she left them, on top of the chest of drawers.

She debated running back upstairs and throwing on something quickly, anything, but she knew he had heard her in close proximity.

She decided to unlock the door, let him in and if she could, make a dash to put on her clothes.

As soon as Sam was on the inside and saw what she was wearing, his green eyes darkened.

He had come to lay all of his cards on the table, but seeing the object of his affection looking the way she did, his thoughts turned carnal. His darkened gaze rooted her to the spot and she couldn't move.

He tried to focus on what he had to say to her and he started out well.

"Um...I wanted to talk about last night. I didn't mean to overwhelm you like that..."

At this point, his train of thought completely derailed. "Damn it M.J!" he said, as he grabbed her and attached his mouth to hers.

If M.J was surprised, she didn't show it, she wrapped her arms around his torso and willingly kissed him back.

Poor Sam. He knew he was in trouble. The minute he saw her, looking and smelling as delicious as she did, his body reacted.

He felt her move her arms up and around his shoulders, as she rose on her toes, deepening the kiss further.

His hands at this point, took on a life of their own, grabbing and bunching the towel on her glorious behind. When the towel loosened, he immediately returned to his senses, knowing that if he didn't, things would get seriously out of control.

He slowly pulled back, looking deep into her now darkened eyes and softly said,

"For your sake and my sanity, please go upstairs and put some clothes on."

With a sweet lingering peck to her lips, he pulled her towel closed, all the while maintaining eye contact, turned her around and playfully slapped her on the butt.

She looked back at him with a genuine smile on her face and noticed the tent in his pants. She quickly turned on her feet and headed upstairs.

* * *

 **The flashback at the beginning was an attempt to show how close M.J, Santana, Kurt and Tina was from early on. Also to keep showing what happened as time went on. I sincerely hope this was good enough.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for your continued support. Your feedback means a great deal. Here is my latest attempt at moving this story along.**

 **Small warning for bad language in this chapter. I'm not a user of bad language, so I apologize for any offence caused.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

 **Written mostly in one go, so here goes...**

* * *

 _No one remembered Mercedes' birthday, and she didn't care. She wanted to forget it herself._

 _She and her mom had spent three months at Burt and Carole's, recuperating and putting their lives back together as much as they could._

 _During that time, her mom looked to be getting better and stronger. Her clothes weren't ill-fitting anymore, neither was her hair wild and unkempt._

 _The Hummels had forged a deeper friendship with her and even managed to help her and Mercedes to get into a different house, under FBI's protection of course._

 _The FBI's presence was to ward off investigative reporters and any threats that might be directed at them._

 _Mercedes' first impression of their new living quarters was mixed. It wasn't as nice as Burt's and Carole's, of course there was no Kurt there, or Santana, or Tina, but it beat going back to their home any day. Never-the-less, she kept regular play dates with her three best friends, cementing their bond._

 _She heard one of the Investigators speaking about moving her father to somewhere else…somewhere **'safe'**. That puzzled her little eleven-year-old brain. _

_This man was the biggest threat and monster she has ever known, people should be kept safe from him, not the other way around. But she listened, and she heard a lot._

* * *

 _One day, her mom was arguing with Burt about going to D.C and taking her to see her father. Suffice it to say, her mom ended up going alone, whilst she went to stay with an FBI lady._

 _The second time her mom went, she came home, took pills and slept for more than twelve hours._

 _Mercedes heard Burt and Carole saying, that it would be best if her mom stayed away from **'that man'** and move on with her life. She couldn't agree more._

 _One night late, on a day that her mom had been to visit her dad, she heard an argument, between her mom and Carole this time. Somehow, it stirred fear within her._

 _"I can't just pick up and leave…and take Mercedes away. She's Marcus' child."_

 _"He's never getting out of prison. Are you going to drag your daughter on visiting days? She doesn't need to see him. Are you going to put her through that?"_

 _"He's her father."_

 _"He's a fucking monster."_

 _"Don't use that language."_

 _"A fucking monster, deal with it. That girl needs you to stand up for her. He doesn't deserve a minute of your time."_

 _"I took vows. Love, honor and obey…"_

 _"So did he, but he broke them. For God sake, he raped, tortured and killed twenty women…and that's what he confessed to. He bragged about it. . . He came to your bed after he was done with them…every time."_

 _"Stop it! Do you want me to say he did those things? He did those terrible things? How am I to live with it, Carole! How can I live with it?"_

 _"You just do. You have a daughter who needs you. I'm going to help you, me and Burt. We're going to get you away from here, where you and Mercedes could feel safe. You and her are going to get counselling and she is going to go to good schools. I don't want to be in the position of telling you what to do…like **'he'** did, but I will for now, if I have to…to protect you and that beautiful, brave little girl in there. All I'm asking, is for you to remember who you were before **'him'** …you had spine, plans and a light. It's time to take these things back…take back your life."_

 _"You don't understand."_

 _That terrible plea in her mother's voice, the rawness, like a cut that wouldn't heal, knocked Mercedes for six. She felt sad, really sad._

 _Silent tears flowed steadily down her chubby cheeks as she remained rooted to the spot, listening to all that was being said._

 _"If I go, I'm saying that all of those things happened."_

 _"It did happen. He admitted it."_

 _"They made him."_

 _"Stop it. Just stop it. Your own daughter…your own baby…saw what he did."_

 _"She imagined…"_

 _"Stop. Just. Stop."_

 _"I can't just…How could I not have known? How could I have lived with him for so long and not known?"_

 _"You couldn't…where's your anger in all of this? Where is your anger for what he did, what he is, what he put you and your daughter through? I hope to hell you find it, but until you do, you're leaving and you're going to have to trust me. This is the best thing. We can go tomorrow…I'm going with you to help you settle, and you can start building a life for yourself and your daughter."_

 _"I don't know where to start."_

 _"Pack. We will take it from there. One step at a time."_

 _She heard her mother crying when Carole left the house, but after a while, Mercedes heard drawers opening and closing._

 _'Packing sounds,' she thought to herself. They were leaving in the morning. Leaving all of this. Closing her eyes, she said a special prayer of thanks for Carole._

 _Her little eleven-year-old self understood that she'd saved Katie's life, now, it looks as though, Carole was saving hers_.

* * *

A perplexed M.J stood in front of her full-length mirror looking at herself.

She could still feel her lips tingling from the heated kisses, that she and Sam shared downstairs.

 _'It happened again. How does he do that? Knows which buttons to push…and how hard to push. It's like I lose all sense and sensibility when I'm around him. I feel…helpless…powerless…but I also feel desired, cherished and…alive. That scares me. Damn you Sam Evans…for making me feel something for you,'_ she said to herself.

She took a look at herself again, wondering if the fitted tee and leggings were too much. Throwing caution to the wind, she turned away from the mirror and exited her room.

* * *

Sam Evans was currently pacing the length and breadth of M.J's living room, trying to get his thoughts in order, but also trying to calm his over-excited body.

 _'I almost lost it…again. I knew she was going to be the death of me…but I didn't know it would be so torturous. Ha! Ha! Ha!'_ he laughed to himself. _'Who would've thought…me…Sam Evans…has been bitten by the love bug.'_

His thoughts were shattered by the soft footfalls belonging to the object of his desire. His green eyes scanned her from head to toe as she approached him.

 _'Dear God…help me to keep my hands to myself,'_ he internally pleaded.

Heat rose to M.J's face the minute she saw Sam staring at her and biting his plump lips. Also, the unmistakable lust that was evident in his darkened green eyes.

Shyly, she approached him and stood directly in front of him.

"Hi…again," she said. To keep his hands from reaching out and grabbing her again, Sam forced them into his pockets. Quietly, he answered,

"Hi…again. You look really nice." Seeing her duck her head and smile, Sam berated himself internally for having word vomit.

"Thank you. Would you like something to drink or snack on?"

The minute she uttered those words, she knew she'd made a mistake, because it carried a double meaning. The playful glint in his eyes told her as much, but it also put her at ease. She cleared her throat and playfully swatted his arm as she said,

"Let me rephrase that. Would you like something to drink…coffee? Soda? Maybe some water?" Sam's face broke into a cheeky smile.

"Some cold water will be fine, thank you." As she turned to go to the kitchen, she asked,

"And…is there anything I can get you from the kitchen to go along with that?"

"No thank you. Just water…as cold as you got."

"Okay, make yourself at home and I'll be right back."

As she turned to go, she could feel his eyes on her and somehow, it made her feel confident and beautiful, so she decided to give him a show.

She walked as slowly and seductively as she could, swinging her hips from left to right, with the biggest smile on her face. An observant Sam, fell for it, hook, line and sinker, but not without a bit of plotting of his own.

 _'I see you M.J. Game on.'_

* * *

Minutes later, they were both seated comfortably in the living room, both drinking water and chatting quietly. Sam was saying,

"I know that I came on a bit too strong last night. I didn't mean to back you in a corner, I just needed answers. It's no secret how I feel about you…even my mom knows it…and when we're together, I sense that you feel something for me, I feel it deep…down in my soul. I've never felt that before from anyone and I've never felt this way before about anyone. I just needed to know that I didn't imagine what I felt in that kiss."

Throughout Sam's heartfelt speech, M.J maintained eye contact with him. She couldn't look away if she tried. The honesty and earnestness floored her. This wasn't infatuation or curiosity, this man genuinely felt something deeply for her.

The night before, he had alluded to him being head over heels in love with her, and now that she is sitting face to face with him, seeing him lay all of his cards on the table, she could see it and feel it. The tangibility of it was of enormous proportions.

She could feel that familiar tug that always seem to arise whenever he is around, and this time it was stronger.

"Sam, I don't have to tell you how I felt last night. I have never been in a position like that. There is so much…stuff…in between…that you don't know...anything about, and it is so…hard for me…to change from the person who I've always been, to this person…who has all of these new feelings…I just don't know what to do with them. I won't deny that I feel something for you…because I do. You are the first guy in a long time, I mean a very long time, that I could actually see myself…being with."

"But…"

M.J's heart sunk at the look on Sam's face. He looked sad. She wanted so much to see those pouty lips stretched into a sweet smile.

She reached forward and lifted his chin, locking eyes with him and holding his gaze.

"But nothing. I'm willing to take things slow. A few months of getting to know each other can't hurt and any relationship built on a solid friendship, is a good one. One that will stand the test of time.

The thing is, that stuff that I spoke about a short while ago, some of it is bad…I mean terrible…I wouldn't wish any of it on my worst enemy.

When these things come to light, are you going to stick around, or are you going to run for the hills? That's the question Sam. My heart wouldn't be able to take rejection, if I happen to fall for you. I'm not a person who goes half in, I go all in or not at all. The proverbial ball is in your court."

* * *

Sam felt electrified just from her tender touch, the way in which she lifted his chin and looked deeply into his eyes, sparked something within him. Her words surprised him though. He wasn't looking for her to say the things she did.

"You're right, I don't know about the things that has happened to you or with you in the past, but I'm willing to listen and learn…if you allow me to. On the other hand, if you care to leave the past behind, accept what is, let go of what was and have faith in what will be, I'm there too. You don't have to protect yourself from me, there is no pretense here. What I feel for you surprised me, because it happened so fast, but, it's there for all the world to see. I don't want to scare you off or overwhelm you, but…I love you M.J…and if friendship is all that you can offer right now…then I'll take it…I'll take whatever I can get."

Poor M.J, she was completely floored. Her eyes were still glued to his when he began speaking and she just couldn't look away.

She felt Sam's hand tenderly brushing across her cheeks, wiping away tears that she didn't even know were falling. He leaned in, kissed her softly on her forehead and pulled back saying,

"I didn't mean to make you cry and I'm not expecting you to say anything back, I just wanted you to know where I stand." She subsequently lowered her gaze from his intense one, and started playing with the hem of her shirt.

"Look at me M.J," he softly said. She did as he asked and raised her eyes to his.

"I'll do whatever it takes. However fast or slow you want to go, that's fine with me. You get to call the shots, just promise me, that you will give us a proper chance."

* * *

A watery smile blossomed on her pretty face. How is this man real? He had just managed to break down one of her remaining walls, and this time, it didn't bother her.

His eyes stayed glued to hers, that deep fascinating green on hers, waiting with bated breath for her response, and respond she did.

"I promise." A huge smile lit up Sam's features. He felt extremely happy and he said as much.

"That makes me so happy…you make me happy M.J."

She surprised him yet again, this time with a small kiss to his full lips. The look on his face caused her to laugh out loud. It was the sweetest, most genuine reaction she has ever seen.

He grabbed her and pulled her to him, pretending to be upset with her, but the force of the pull threw both off balance, and they landed with her on top of him, on the couch.

This caused her to laugh even more loudly.

Anyone looking on would have thought that they were a couple, by the intimate way in which they were laying. His hands, by a reflex move, were anchored around her waist and hers were lightly grasping his broad shoulders, with her face buried in his neck.

He waited patiently for her to compose herself, as her supple body shook with laughter.

After a while, Sam was the first to realize the position that they were in. He lightly tapped her butt and said,

"Aah…M.J? I think…I think we should…uhm…can you sit up…please?"

M.J's eyes snapped to his. Her face was inches away from his. She could feel his warm breath hitting her in her face and she was sure he felt hers.

Her milk chocolate complexion turned to a deep dark red as her whole body heated up.

She softly cleared her throat, pushing on his strong shoulders as she tried to get up. Sam released his hold on her waist and allowed her to sit up. He missed her warmth instantly.

He sat up and found her fanning herself with her hands, and somehow it pleased him.

A naughty smile played on his lips. The image of her swaying her luscious hips earlier came to mind, and he decided to add fuel to her already raging fire.

He backed off the plaid buttoned down he had on, leaving a plain green wife beater, plastered to his sculptured body. He heard her breath hitch and he laughed on the inside.

He calmly stood, stretched his long body and kindly asked,

"Would you like me to go and get you some water? You look thirsty."

M.J looked at the blonde, green-eyed devil in front of her. He looked as innocent as a lamb, but she knew he was anything but.

"No thank you and I'm not thirsty…I'm just a little flushed."

Sam wasn't convinced. He moved directly in front of her, almost standing between her legs and reached his hands out to her saying,

"Fine. Let me help you up."

The protest died on her lips, when she felt herself being hoisted from the couch and hitting smack, dab, into his solid chest. Instinctively, her hands went around his torso, trying to steady herself, and his loosely went around her shoulders.

She caught a whiff of his cologne and something distinctively him, and she almost swooned.

 _'Dear God! I think I've died and gone to heaven,'_ she internally screamed.

She caught herself then, when she started nuzzling her face in his chest, and abruptly stilled in his arms. This made Sam smile. He placed a light kiss on her hair and ran his hands slowly down her arms.

"Hey," he called trying to get her attention. "Are you okay?" M.J nodded her head. She didn't trust herself to speak, or look up at him.

She softly pushed on his chest, indicating that he should let go, and he did. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and calmly asked him.

"Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Sure, I'd love to."

"Good. Well…I'm off to the kitchen. You're welcome to join me if you so desire…if not, the house is at your disposal."

The one word that Sam took from her statement was the word desire. His thoughts ran amok within him, as he conjured up the many things he desired to do to her.

M.J could see exactly what he was thinking when she looked at him. She felt herself shiver under his intense stare. She turned then, and made her way to the kitchen, this time however, doing nothing to whet his appetite.

* * *

Half-an-hour later, the tension from before had all but disappeared, and the two were back to their old bantering ways.

"You know, I never did get a thank you for helping to set up your bed. From the guys yes, but not from you. Why is that?" he playfully asked.

M.J looked up at him. He was currently peeling potatoes for the salad she would make for lunch. She couldn't help but to think how comfortable he looked, and how right he looked, as if he belonged there.

"I'm not sure…but if it makes you feel any better, I sincerely thank you." He turned to her with a smug smile on his face.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" She swatted his arm and pointed to the potatoes he was peeling.

"Back to work. The water is getting ready to boil."

"Yes ma'am," he playfully said, and turned back to his task. "What's for lunch, by the way?" he asked.

"Uhm…not sure. I'm leaning towards roasted turkey breast, potato salad with pineapple and fresh veggies."

"Sounds great. I can't wait."

With a sweet smile on her face, she turned away and went towards the fridge. She could feel his eyes on her, tracking her every move.

She took out a wrapped dish and proceeded to the stove, where she un-wrapped it and placed it in the oven. After setting the timer, she went over beside him and quietly asked,

"Are you almost finished with those? I need to put them in the pot."

He silently nodded his head and walked over to the sink to wash them. He happened to look back in her direction, ready to ask her if it was okay for him to put the potatoes in the pot, and he nearly dropped the bowl.

She was standing on her tippy toes trying to reach a bowl in one of the top cupboards, and as she did so, her shirt rode up, giving him a spectacular view of her well- rounded posterior.

He bit his lip, hard, and quickly turned back to what he was doing. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes in the process, willing the image to change, but fate had other plans for him. Her exasperated voice called out to him asking for his help.

"Can you reach this for me?" Sam was desperately trying to school his features at this point. He pretended as if he didn't hear her.

"Sam? Earth to Sam," she called out. He swore under his breath then. He had to answer. He had to turn around. He could feel her eyes on him. He turned to her and absentmindedly said,

"Hmm?"

"I said, can you reach this for me. The white bowl in the back."

"Sure."

His voice seemed to crack right there and then, making him sound foreign. He went over, took the bowl down and handed it to her, never once looking at her.

Quickly, he returned to the sink and asked,

"Do I put the potatoes in the pot, or leave them for you?"

"If you can, put them in. Everything else is in there. Sam, are you okay?"

"Yes…yes I am. Uhm…do you have any beer?"

"Pretty sure I do," she replied.

She looked on curiously at his nervous antics, as she went about what she was doing. Sam found the beer, opened it and guzzled it down.

"Aah, that hits the spot. Nothing like a nice cold beer….it does a body good."

* * *

M.J remained quiet.

She moved towards the oven to check on the meat and turned around just in time to see him looking away and licking his lips. She smiled to herself.

 _'He's such a horn dog,'_ she thought to herself.

"Sam, can you check the potatoes please? I don't want them to get too mushy."

He did as told, taking a knife and testing them.

M.J couldn't help but to stare at the way the muscles in his arms and back were contracting with every move he made. Internally she said,

 _'Oh Lord! Now I'm a horn dog. Head in the game M.J…remember you are taking things slow.'_

Sam turned to her after inspecting the potatoes and said,

"I think they need a couple more minutes. So…about your bed…" He was cut off by her saying,

"I'm not sleeping with you Sam." His mouth dropped open. A smile appeared on his face and he said, "Yet.'

His smile was easy, and dangerous.

"Beer and lunch is a start. Anyway, that wasn't what I was alluding to. I was going to ask if you are going to get a canopy for it…and…a two-step…you know…seeing as you are severely challenged by height."

* * *

M.J couldn't believe what he had just said.

She snatched up the oven mitts and threw them at him, hitting him upside the head.

"You ass," she said to him.

He laughed hard. He had to hold onto the kitchen counter to keep himself from falling over.

M.J looked at him as if she wanted to smack him…hard. She kissed her teeth and went to the stove to remove the potatoes.

After a while, Sam composed himself and advanced towards her, clearing his throat as he did so.

"Uhm…M.J, I…" Once again she cut him off, with her small finger wagging in front of him.

"Don't say a word, unless you are going to speak about lunch, or I might accidentally burn you."

He zipped his mouth shut.

She showed him what she wanted him to do and he did it diligently. After a while, lunch was finished and she said,

"I normally eat all of my meals on the deck, because it's always nice out there. I think you will like it. That's a tip for helping to set up the bed."

With that, she picked up their plates, showed him the drinks and exited the kitchen, leaving a speechless Sam to follow her.

* * *

All through lunch their banter continued.

She had just related a story about the time she worked as a photographer's assistant. Apparently, the photographer was an arrogant, mean, demanding man, prone to throwing tantrums, and after a few months working with him, she punched him in the face and walked off the set.

Sam laughed at the thought of the pocket-sized woman in front of him punching a guy.

"That's an interesting way to give your two weeks' notice," he teased.

"Two weeks' notice, my ass. So, how long have you and those guys had the band?" He pondered her question for a beat.

"With these guys, about four years." That brought a smile to her face.

"That's great. You're not just a band of guys, you're friends. I see that by the way you play and interact on stage."

"Wow! You got all of that from the one time you saw us playing? Very perceptive of you." She took a sip of her drink and calmly said,

"Yes I did. I'm very good at reading people….sometimes."

"Oh? I'm intrigued. Is it possible for you to read me right now?"

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed and a small pout on her lips. Pointing her fork in his direction, she asked,

"Just what are you getting at Sam Evans?" A smile graced his features, it was intended to put her at ease, to disarm her diva exterior.

"Nothing. I just want to know if you can figure me out…and tell me what I'm thinking, just by my actions."

"Okay Mr. Evans, I see you. I think you are a genuinely good guy, who loves his family and cares for his friends. I believe that you draw people in, not just with your looks, but with your general persona…and…that can be a dangerous thing…for un-suspecting women…"

"Like you?" he asked. She was stumped for a minute.

"Uhm…maybe." He smiled, that lopsided smile of his.

"Okay, not bad. But…can you tell that I've got my eye on this…mysterious, beautiful, complicated, not to mention, curvy woman, with the prettiest, softest milk chocolate skin?"

She knew it. She wished it didn't set off those familiar flutters, low in her belly, but it did.

"It's not wise to aim for the complicated," she sassed, and he laughed.

"Well…you've got my interest…actually, more than that," he retorted.

"I'm aware."

Her quiet reply left him feeling as if he was on cloud nine.

* * *

Much later, Sam was resting easy at home, in his study, tuning his guitar.

He took a look around, at the hundreds of books on the shelves. He had quite a collection. For a guy who was dyslexic, he loved books. That was his motivation for conquering the dreaded disease.

He placed his guitar down, stood up and moved around, from shelf to shelf, just idly looking at books. As he came to the last shelf, his eye caught a non-fiction book, with the words _'serial killer_ ' emblazoned in red on the spine.

He remembered, somewhere from back east. It fascinated him as a teen, when it buzzed all over the news, so he bought the book when it came out.

He looked at the familiar title, _**'Blood in the Ground: The Legacy of Marcus Tyrone Jones.'**_ He suddenly remembered it was Maine, as he looked at the grainy photo of the killer in the cover art.

He started to slide it back in, and then, as he often did with a book in his hand, he opened it and skimmed to the flyleaf.

"I was right. It was Maine, some little Podunk town. Marcus Tyrone Jones. A man of many talents, a family man, a local preacher in his church. A wife and a daughter. How many did he kill again," he asked himself.

Curiosity propelled him. He kept skimming.

"Hot August night, summer storm, dark outside, blah blah blah. Ten-year-old daughter finds his murder hole in the ground, Mercedes Jones. Mercedes…Jones," he pondered.

"M.J?" He stared at the book. M.J's face loomed in front of him. Her words from earlier reverberated through his head and his handsome face turned stony.

"Son of a bitch!"

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. I hope it was worth the read. Much love to you.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for your continued support. Your reviews inspire me and are very welcomed. (Shameless plug-in) Those of you who haven't checked out my latest Samcedes story, 'It's Never Too Late,' I invite you to do so. It won't be very long...I think, but I believe it's worth the read. Thank you in advance.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

After considerable internal debate, Sam decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

It's been a few days since he stumbled on what he believed to be M. J's secret, regarding her horrific past and as much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't his secret to tell.

He tried to act as normal as he could around her, hoping not to give anything away, but, late at night, when he was ensconced in his home alone, he would go on the internet and do as much research as he could, about that horrible time in history.

For all of his tireless work, he still wasn't one hundred percent sure that M.J was indeed Mercedes Jones. His gut told him she was, but until she clarified it, he could only assume.

It was now Thursday evening and she was due shortly to come over to his place for dinner. As he pottered about his kitchen, he made a mental note to put away the knowledge of what he thought he knew for the night and enjoy their dinner.

* * *

M.J looked at the clock for the umpteenth time, as she tossed outfit after outfit aside.

Knowing that she and Sam had decided to take things slow, she wanted the right outfit to showcase that.

Dinner was at seven or thereabouts, and the time was now six fifteen. Half an hour later, she was dressed in white leggings, white fitted T-shirt, a pair of low top, gray and white Converse and a gray hooded sweater.

As she stepped out, she grabbed the strawberry torte she had made earlier and set off.

She made the drive to his place easily and as instructed, she took the steps up and knocked on the door. Sam's voice sounded distant as he shouted out to her.

"It's open! Come in."

M.J pushed the door open and walked in. She could see Sam in the kitchen. He looked nice. He wore jeans, a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and at least a day's worth of scruff on his handsome face.

The wheels in her head started to turn. Everything about him in that moment screamed model. At some point, she will have to ask him to pose for her.

"I could've been a trained assassin." He smiled, his eyes trained on her, as he looked at her from top to bottom.

"A locked door wouldn't stop a trained assassin."

She had to admit. He had a point. She handed over the cake to him and as he took it, he quietly said, "You look really nice."

Her breath caught in her throat, as she looked into his eyes and she had to remind herself that they were taking things slow. Returning the sentiment, she softly said,

"You don't look so bad yourself."

He placed a sweet kiss on her cheek and turned away to store the cake. Heat flooded her face as her eyes followed his retreating frame.

With his head in the fridge, he told her,

"Feel free to look around M.J, dinner will just be a few more minutes."

* * *

M.J turned away from temptation and made her way further inside.

Sam's place had a homey feel to it. She was expecting it to be the typical bachelor pad, but she was proven wrong when she saw family photos on the walls and mantle, nice furniture and the way everything was laid out.

Her eyes were drawn to his study, where walls of books stood.

As she entered, she felt his presence behind her.

"This is quite a collection Sam."

"Part of it." Her eyes widened.

"Part? You're a serious man Sam."

"About books?" She glanced around.

"Yes. Very efficient space and that is one of the best uses of a wall I've ever seen. The color, texture and dimension." He walked over and offered her a glass of wine.

"Not to mention words." She giggled at his reply and said,

"Yeah words…. I like to read as much as the next guy…. unless you're the next guy." A cheeky grin blossomed on his handsome face. He looked right at her and said,

"That's the plan." She laughed, waving him off, as she walked up and down, looking at the walls.

"But this is art. Yes, you have nice furniture, but you've arranged your space for efficiency and a highlighted passion. And by highlighting it, you've created art. I want pictures of this."

"Sure, go ahead, I don't care."

"Not now, not with my phone. I mean serious pictures. I want to come back with my equipment, and big daddy Canon." A smiling Sam asked,

"Whose daddy is he?" She laughed, but continued to study the walls of books.

"Film camera, Medium format. I could do a nice panorama too, and…"

"Bring your camera when you want to M. J, but, right now, let's sit outside and have some wine with our dinner."

She looked at his empty hands, recalling one of their many conversations, where he stated that he wasn't a fan of wine, and asked,

"You're having wine?" He smiled that lopsided smile of his.

"It's not so bad now and again. You smell great."

Before she could form an answer and he could stop himself, his lips landed on hers. It was meant to be a peck, but he drew her to him, pressing into her soft body and before long her lips parted, allowing him in.

The two got lost in the slow, languid kiss, as their tongues and lips reunited like long lost friends. After a while, Sam grudgingly pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. Softly M.J said,

"Almond and honey bath gel and Total Nourishment Fruit Cream."

He smiled, kissed her forehead and took her hand, tugging her towards his bedroom. He felt her resist.

"I've got a deck through the door in here."

* * *

She allowed him to lead her through his room. Her attention was drawn to his nice bedroom furniture, a big screen TV and more books.

He opened the door to a small square deck, a round table and two folding chairs.

"I can get you a pillow to sit on," he thoughtfully said. She waved him off.

"I'm fine Sam. But thank you anyway."

She studied the view. There was a playing field straight ahead, surrounded by a wire fence and trees. In the distance behind the field, she could see a small stadium, with tall lights, a huge sign board, another field with a tent on it and what looked like a pond, surrounded by smaller trees.

"You can sit here and watch the ball game."

"I do. When I'm too lazy to walk over," he replied.

"Little League?"

"T-ball, Little League, Pony League and some sponsored adult leagues."

She turned to her dinner then, noting he'd made Spaghetti Bolognaise. She complimented his work.

"This looks nice."

"Thank you. I hope you like it."

She took up her fork and started to twirl her pasta around it. Quietly, she asked, "Do you play?"

Sam was just taking a sip of his wine when she asked. He placed his glass back on the table and said,

"Not much anymore. There's not much time for it. Did you ever play?" A small snort escaped M.J. She cleared her throat and said,

"No. I never did. I was more interested in basketball. In high school, I actually played for a short time."

A mischievous smile appeared on Sam's face. He looked at her and as calmly as he could, said, "Wow! I never would've guessed."

M.J held his gaze, knowing exactly where he was going with this conversation. She waited patiently for him to continue.

"Uhm…isn't there a height requirement to play basketball? Or…was everyone on the team…. short?"

"There it is. I knew you couldn't resist Sam Evans."

At this point, Sam was trying desperately to hold in his laughter, but the look on her face begged to differ. She rolled her eyes at him, wanting to thump him for laughing at her.

She turned her attention to her food and started to eat.

* * *

About a minute later, Sam righted himself in his chair and took a sip from his glass. He cleared his throat several times before he addressed her.

"So…what position did you play?"

She didn't answer. She continued to enjoy her dinner. Sam stood from his chair and knelt beside her. He softly stroked her arm, brushed her hair back and sweetly kissed her cheek.

"Sorry M.J."

She looked at him and softened. He was indeed sorry. She traced his features, lingering on his nose, on which she placed a soft kiss.

"You know, for a fool, you can cook well. I forgive you. Go and eat your dinner."

His face morphed into a smile as he stood and went back to his seat. She answered his earlier question.

"Point guard, and no, I was one of three shorter girls on our team. The others were a bit taller." She took a sip and continued.

"I noticed you have a court and hoop out back." He pondered her statement for a beat, then replied,

"Shooting hoops clears the brain. I used to play, back in high school, but, these days, it's whenever I get the chance."

She gave a small nod, digesting his words. She could actually picture him playing. He was athletic, very fit and he certainly had the height.

"What position?" she asked.

"Same as you. We'll have to go one on one sometime." She looked at him, seeing no jest, but a playfulness in his eyes.

"Fine. I'll be ready."

Sam looked at the beautiful woman in front of him. She was as tough as nails, he had no doubt about that. There was a determined spirit a about her. A cheeky smile played out on her face as she asked him,

"Are you any good, because I can attest that I am."

"I can hold my own."

She had no doubt that he could, in many ways. Her thoughts drifted back to the walls of books.

"What motivated you to get into books the way you have?" He inhaled and exhaled loudly.

"I'm dyslexic and growing up, it was tough trying to read a simple sentence. I got fed up with the other kids making fun of me, and took the proverbial bull by the horns. I took a different approach and got hooked on stories of adventure, sports, anything... you name it. My reading improved and every time I felt that I was going back to how I was, I pushed harder. Nearly all of my spending money was spent on books and as I grew older, I continued. The result is what you see…in the study and in my room."

* * *

M.J sat entranced listening to Sam speak about his passion for books and why. She won't tell him, but she admired him a bit more and also fell for him a bit more in that moment.

"That's amazing Sam. Shows you, whatever you put your mind to, you can do." Sam's cheeks reddened from her praise. He ducked his head and quietly said,

"Thank you."

A few seconds of silence passed before he asked,

"What was the first picture you took?" M.J smiled.

"Well, I'd never seen the ocean before and I got a chance to, one weekend, me and some friends. God, it was so beautiful. I took rolls and rolls of film that day. What was the first song you learned to play?"

"The Gambler."

"Ooh, good old Kenny. I sense the country in you." Sam smiled at her remark. She was a puzzle, but was very good at figuring him out.

"You got me there darlin'," he said, letting his country accent slip in. He went on to say,

"My mom used to play old country songs all the time, and that one was stuck in my head. My dad had an old acoustics guitar and I worked on it until I could actually play it. What I didn't spend on books, I saved and bought a second hand Gibson."

"The one in your bedroom?"

"Yeah. I keep it handy. By the time I was fifteen, I figured out that, if you had a guitar, and could even pretend to play it, you got the girls."

She allowed his words to sink in for a beat.

"You got the girls, seeing as you can more than pretend to play. None of them stuck?"

"One almost did, but that's all water under the bridge." She took him at his word and held off from pushing any further. "What about you?"

She shrugged and nudged her plate away.

"I never stayed in one place long enough for anything to happen." Knowing the risks, Sam decided to push a bit harder. He said,

"Ordinarily, I'd assume that you had a crappy relationship or left a bad marriage behind. But I don't think that is it. You've got a solid family under you and that's foundation." Giving nothing away, M.J replied,

"Think of it as internal wiring." He countered with,

"I'm good with wiring. You've got good self-confidence and enough self-worth to punch an asshole, head off on your own and go after what you want. You might be complicated M.J, but you're not wired wrong."

He had her.

She rose from the table, took both of their plates and headed back through his room to the kitchen. Sam silently followed her, with the two glasses in his hands.

* * *

She placed the plates on the counter and turned to him.

"There was a guy who loved me…. or thought he did, the way you love someone when you're nineteen. I slept with him, studied him and worked with him. The day he told me he loved me and asked me to move in with him, I broke it off. Right then and there. It was hard for us to get through the rest of college. Easier for me, because I didn't have those feelings for him…so I could just walk away."

"But you remembered him."

"I hurt him. I didn't have to."

Sam studied her for a moment, she was probably right, but he seriously doubted anybody got through this maze called life, without hurting someone, whether they wanted to or not.

"Maybe you'll fall in love with me and ask me to live with you in that big house on the bluff."

"I don't fall in love, and I like living alone." Sam held her gaze as he uttered his next words.

"Then, I know that going in, unlike the college boy, what to expect. I know how it works. Would you like some more wine?" She moved away from the sink.

"I shouldnt. Water is better, since I have to drive." Sam nodded in agreement, but he was trying to hold on to the night for a little longer.

"It's a nice night. Once I clean this up, we can take a walk, and work off dinner."

She agreed, took the water he offered and wandered back to the walls of books. She said,

"I really want to take some shots of these. Is there any time that works for you?"

"You can come over tomorrow, anytime. The door will be opened since I'll be working down below. If you come later in the day, we could go over to the bar and grab some dinner before I play."

"You're playing tomorrow?" He shook his head and replied,

"From nine to midnight-ish. Mom and dad are probably going to come, so you won't be by yourself.

She was just about to answer when everything went black and cold as her eyes latched on to a single spine in the wall of books.

 _'Blood in the Ground: The Legacy of Marcus Tyrone Jones.'_

They'd changed the title for the movie, the title and focus, because they wanted the drama focused on the young girl who'd discovered her father…the young girl who'd saved a woman's life, who'd stopped a murderer.

Years ago, she decided she was strong enough to face everything. She read interviews by the director and screenwriter, so she knew why they'd turned the book into _'Daughter of Evil.'_

But this is where it had started, this book held all of the horror and cold-blooded years of one man's murderous secrets…that man was her father.

"M.J?" Sam tossed the dish cloth and started for her. "What's wrong?" She turned sharply, her skin looked ashen and her eyes looked blank.

"Nothing…nothing…I…a little headache. I probably shouldn't have had wine with my dinner."

She side-stepped, talking too fast.

"This was really nice Sam, but I should go….and probably pop a couple of Advil…and call it an early night."

Before she could get out of the door, he grasped her arm and felt it quivering. "You're shaking M.J."

She couldn't meet his eyes as she said, "It's just a headache. I really need to go."

Afraid the shaking would turn into a panic attack, she placed her hand over his and pled, "Please Sam. I'll come back tomorrow. Thanks for everything."

At that, she bolted. Sam turned back, his eyes narrowed on the books.

Then it hit him. Something had put the fear of God into her…and he knew exactly what that something was.

He had his confirmation. M.J is definitely Mercedes Jones.

* * *

Ten minutes later, M.J reached her home on the bluff.

She was still shaking.

She tried not to think about the way she dashed from Sam's home and the myriad of thoughts, possibly questions, that could be running through his head. She will have to come up with something to say to him and she sure as hell will have to make it up to him.

Tonight, she got another glimpse of the wonderful guy he is. He made her boring night brighter, and his cooking was delicious.

She made her way up to her room, threw her hoodie on a chair and crashed on her bed.

* * *

Next day, she awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. She knew who it was right away. She didn't bother to look at the caller ID.

"Morning Sam."

"Good morning beautiful. Just checking to see how you are."

She closed her eyes at his term of endearment, trying to picture his gorgeous face. His voice was laced with concern and it made her feel special.

"I'm fine Sam. Thank you for checking up on me though." He absentmindedly voiced his thoughts to her.

"Yes you are."

But he caught himself when he heard her soft giggle. He cleared his throat and said,

"Uhm…Good to hear. I was worried." She could that tell he was. She saw it the night before she ran also.

"No need to worry, I'm much better."

"Great. Couple of questions. Are you still coming over and what time?" A soft sigh escaped her. She said,

"Yes I am and it will be later in the evening."

She couldn't see it, but, Sam fist pumped the air and his face split into a huge smile.

"Fantastic! I look forward to seeing you." His enthusiasm brought a smile to M. J's face. He could be so dorky sometimes.

"Okay. I will see you later

"Bye beautiful. Enjoy your day."

'Thank you Sam. You too."

She placed her phone on the nightstand and moved towards her closet. Although she had the entire day at her disposal, she decided to sort out her clothes for the evening.

* * *

Hours later, M.J arrived at Sam's place to shoot the photos.

The book loomed in front of her, putting her off, so she decided to go around the back to the garage.

The last rays of sunlight filtering through the trees caught her attention, as it dropped towards the horizon.

She saw Sam lifting tyres and stacking them as if they were as light as a feather. For a few seconds, she watched him, the way the muscles in his arms and back rippled with every movement he made. The concentration on his face, the way the veins in his arms bulged and she had to admit, it was downright sexy.

As if sensing that she was there, he looked up. The look he gave her was scorching. His green eyes traveled from the tip of her shoes, right up to her eyes, where he held them captive for a moment, until his face broke into a soft smile.

M.J shuddered. She wasn't cold, but something in his gaze made her. She caught herself, as he walked towards her, and that old familiar tug returned. Schooling her features, she accepted his sweet kiss to her cheek and quietly said,

"Hi. I hope you don't mind me dropping by the garage. I don't really feel like taking those photos we talked about, at least not right now."

"That's fine by me. Whether it's here or the house, nothing is off limits to you….including me."

The playful expression on his handsome face made her roll her eyes. She waved him away saying,

"I know that…very well….Mr. Evans. This seems like a good spot for a garage. Quick access to the road, near to town and a fast way to zip to the highway. Is that why you picked it?"

Sam shook his head in the negative.

"No. This place was here already. It belonged to a guy called Clint. He was getting down in age and his wife was sick, so he decided to sell it."

"Okay, fair enough. Was it the mechanics that made you or the idea of having your own business?" she asked.

"It's both. I like cars and I wanted one, so I had to learn to keep it running. I didn't mind working for Clint, but I like working for myself more."

"That's great Sam. Doing something that you love and getting paid for it, is a bonus. I'm glad it worked out for you."

And she was. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She was genuinely glad for him. The need to kiss her was strong, but he stood his ground and offered her a sweet smile instead.

"Thank you, pretty lady. I am too."

The two made small talk as Sam closed up for the night and then headed inside for him to get ready.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sam remembered that he had to drop off spare parts for a long-time customer, so he left her at his place, with the intention of meeting her up later at the bar.

M.J made herself at home.

She made her way out to the deck and sat there, thinking and taking in the night air.

Her thoughts drifted to the book on the shelf. It only took that to remind her. How could she have forgotten, or allowed herself to forget, what she had come from and how easily 'normal' could come crashing down.

Like a lightning flash, Sam entered her mind. Automatically, she smiled. This man kept her on her toes. He knew how to break her walls down and how to reach her. He was lovable, dorky, sweet, kind, handsome, sexy and much more, poured into a six-foot plus frame.

Trying to keep their relationship on the friendly side was hard…. very hard and every minute she spent with him, it got harder. At some point she would have to stop fighting a losing battle. She was falling for him and just couldn't stop herself.

She took a look at her watch, seeing the time was past nine, so she gathered herself together, locked up and left.

* * *

Her timing couldn't be better, because the band had already rocked the small stage.

She spied Dwight and Mary sitting cozy at a table and made her way towards them. Immediately, Mary grabbed her hand.

"Great timing. The kids went out and we just got here. They're hot tonight!" she said, pointing to the stage. Dwight leaned in and gently kissed M. J's cheek, as a way of saying hello. He pointed to the bar and turned away from them.

"Dwight's going to get us some drinks and then he's going to dance with me."

M.J gave a playful shriek and batted her eyes at Mary. The two broke out into a laugh, acting like two teen-aged girls.

Dwight returned shortly after with their drinks and Mary promptly latched onto his hand. M.J said, "Next round is on me."

They toasted and took a swig of their drinks. Right away, Mary dragged Dwight onto the dance floor, sending air kisses to M.J as she did so.

* * *

A few minutes later, M.J made her way to the bar. She felt Sam's eyes on her, the flutter in her tummy assured her of that.

She needed to acknowledge him, and she would…. soon.

She ordered three new drinks, just as the band started to slow things down.

On her way back to the table, she saw Dwight and Mary, still on the dance floor, wrapped around each other, swaying. The sweetness of it struck her, right in the heart.

 _'Love can last…for some,'_ she thought.

She set the drinks down, picked up hers and looked towards the stage with a smile on her face.

Sam's gaze locked onto hers. He was singing as if he meant it, as if wild horses couldn't make him look away, or take him away. He exuded talent and showmanship.

Where his parents had struck in her heart…he gripped it, hard enough to make it ache. She wanted it to stop. To empty herself of what he made her feel…. what he made her need. He'd been a mistake, from the moment he sauntered in and changed her tyre on that dark road.

She made herself look away and turned her eyes towards the dancers on the floor. Her gaze brushed over the woman who had whispered something into Sam's ear the last time she'd been here. The woman looked back at her with something like a sulk or dislike.

 _'Great. Now I have the attention of some a jealous groupie,'_ she internalized.

* * *

That ache from before, stayed within her as the band kicked things up once more. She saw the Evans' coming her way, their faces lit with happiness.

"Two dances in a row. That's a record," Mary stated. M. J directed a question to Dwight.

"You don't like to dance?" Dramatically, Dwight answered,

"Did you see me out there?" M. J laughed and honestly said,

"I thought you looked adorable…the both of you."

* * *

Sam knew the minute M. J entered the bar.

It wasn't because he had seen her, but because there was a change in the air. Like the calm before a storm. She had one within her, a storm, and he knew why now, but the why wasn't the whole story.

He wanted the whole of it as much as he wanted her.

So many times he has debated, if to tell her he knew, or not. Or not always won out. Would telling her help her relax, or send her running? That was the question.

He deduced that she was too much of a mystery to be sure.

She didn't trust him, he knew that, and as much as it grated on his nerves, he wasn't singled out, she probably trusted no one except for her family.

He'd wondered too, if he left her alone and just backed away, if she would be fine with it. He suspected she would. That was something else she was good at. Making wherever she was and whatever she did, fine for the moment. She was used to that, but he was damn set on giving her something she wasn't used to.

The hell with fine. Sam Evans was on a mission…. his target…. M. J.

* * *

 **First of all, I apologize for the absence of a flashback in this update. I wanted it to be all about Samcedes and this chapter wanted to go on and on...**

 **I hope it make sense, because it was mostly written in one go. Much love to you.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other Samcedes stories.**

 **Standard disclaimer.**

* * *

 _Mercedes lived in Ohio for approximately five months, two weeks and six days._

 _That narrow slice of time, brought so many highs and lows, so many jolts and joys, she couldn't keep track._

 _She loved the house in Lima with its high ceilings and deep rich colors. With its pretty backyard patio and the little fountain with its own tiny pool._

 _She'd never lived in a city before, so she spent hours at the window in her room, watching vehicles and cabs of people._

 _Her room was so beautiful._

 _The old Cherrywood dresser, an antique, not a hand-me-down, had a big oval mirror, framed in the same wood, with little curlicues. She had a double bed, a luxury that had her rolling around in it, or stretching her arms wide, just because she could._ _The sheets were so soft and smooth, she'd run her fingers over it and the pillowcases, to lull herself to sleep._

 _The walls were sunset gold and had pictures grouped together, in their own little garden. She liked her room even more than her mother's, which was fancier with a pale green canopy, draped over a big bed, and a chair with strange, beautiful birds flying in formation._

 _Carole did great and she was as good as her word. She had come over with them and helped them to settle into their new life. After spending six weeks, Mrs. Jones assured her that, they were fine, and kindly ordered her back to her life with Burt._

 _During the six weeks that Carole was there, Kurt and the girls came over and spent every weekend with Mercedes. The four grew stronger, even though they were separated._

* * *

 _Starting school had brought nerves and excitement. A new school, a new place, where no one knew her, was both scary and wonderful._

 _She got to use a new name too. Here, she was Mel J. Her name was a mash-up of her first and middle name, with the J representing her surname. To the others, she was just he new girl. Some made fun of her accent, but none knew her daddy was in prison._

 _She started seeing a therapist, to help her come to terms with the horror story she was caught up in. She hated going, but the therapist was nice. She always smelled good and treated her kind, but it felt wrong, at least at first, to say things to a stranger about her parents, herself and more than anything, what happened that night in the woods._

 _Her mother went to another doctor altogether. A lot of times when she should be going, she said she wasn't feeling up to it and retired to her bed, with one of her headaches._

 _Once a week, she would hire a car, and drive to the prison, on visiting day, mostly when Mercedes was in school. It took nearly eight hours to go and come back, just to spend a small amount of time talking to the monster behind the glass._

 _And she always came back looking worn and battered, with one of her headaches. Still she wouldn't stop going._

* * *

 _Everything settled into a kind of routine, with school for her, and her mother working part-time as a waitress._

 _One day, Burt drove up with a tabloid paper in his hand. He looked angry._

 _Mercedes cringed._

 _She'd never seen 'uncle' Burt so angry. She didn't know what to do. She stood by the sink making lemonade, the way Carole showed her, while her mother sat staring into space, pretending to help._

 _Seeing Burt slap the paper down on the counter, her mom jumped up to look at it._

 _Mercedes peered over at it, as well. She saw that the front of it had a picture of her father, and one of her from picture day, back at her old school._

" _How could you? How could you do this to your daughter? To yourself?" Burt snarled. Mrs. Jones clutched at the little gold cross around her neck._

 _"Don't yell at me. I hardly said anything."_

" _You said enough. Did you give them this picture of Mercedes? Did you tell them you were living here in Ohio?"_

 _Her shoulders hunched together, the way they used to, when daddy gave her a mean look._

" _They paid me five thousand dollars. I've got to earn my own way, don't I?"_

 _She sounded pitiful and un-sure of her words. Burt's features turned stormy._

" _And you think this is the way to do it? Selling your daughter's picture to the tabloids?"_

" _They could have gotten it without me, and you know it. They've been writing about this… nightmare, for weeks now. It never stops."_

" _That maybe true, but they didn't have her picture. They didn't know you all were living here."_

* * *

 _The phone rang right at that moment, breaking some of the tension in the room. Burt held up his hand, halting Mercedes, before she could answer it._

" _Don't answer it. Let it go to the machine. I had six calls at the school already and a few at home. It wouldn't take long to dig up an un-listed number." "_ _Mrs. Jones hung her head, accepting that her life had become a never-ending nightmare._

" _They're always at the prison… pestering me," she said._

 _With her shoulders still hunched, Mrs. Jones pressed her lips together, barely holding on to what little sanity she had. There were deep lines around her mouth, Mercedes noted. Lines that weren't there before that hot summer night._

" _Marcus said we could make some good money. He can't do it himself. It's the law, but…" Anger resurfaced in Burt. He couldn't believe what he was hearing._

" _You can funnel it to him," he spat. Mrs. Jones flushed deeply. The way she always did, when she was embarrassed or angry._

" _I've got a duty to my husband, Burt. They got him locked up, in what they call a special cell. He said he needed money, to pay the lawyer, to work on getting him in the jail's general population."_

 _An incredulous look masked Burt Hummel's face. If he could, in that moment, he would have her committed._

" _Christ woman! That's just a load of bullshit. Don't you know bullshit when you hear it?"_

" _Don't use that language."_

" _The language bothers you, but this doesn't?" He slapped his hand on the tabloid, emphasizing what he meant, just as the phone began to ring again._

" _Did you even read it?"_

" _No. No I didn't. I don't want to read it. They… kept… pestering me and Marcus said he'd start getting more respect, if he could tell his story. And I could back him up."_

 _Burt bunched the dreaded paper in his hands, as he uttered his next words._

" _Nobody respects tabloids. Even he knows…" He paused for a beat and Mercedes looked at him. He looked more sick than angry at the moment._

" _Who else pestered you? Who else have you spoken to?"_

" _I spoke to Simon Vance," she replied._

" _The write of true crimes?"_

" _He's a professional. His publisher is going to pay me twenty-five thousand dollars. It says so. Right in the contract."_

" _You signed a contract?"_

" _It's professional," she answered. With glazed eyes and trembling lips, Nancy Jones threw her arms out, as if to ward off an attack._

" _And there'll be more when they make the movie deal. He said…"_

" _Nancy?"_

 _Little Mercedes knew despair now and she could hear it in 'uncle' Burt's voice._

" _What have you done?"_

" _I can't get by waiting tables. And that doctor you made me go to, said I needed to work on my self-confidence. I need to get a place closer to the prison too, so I don't have to hire a car and drive that far. Marcus wants me and Mercy closer."_

* * *

 _A mixture of fear and anger flooded Mercedes. Her mom had to be going crazy. It was the only logical explanation, for her behavior._

" _I'm not going there," she defiantly said. Nancy Jones spun around at the sound of her daughter's voice._

" _Don't sass me."_

" _I'm not sassing you mom. I'm saying I won't go and if you make me, I'll run off."_

" _You'll do what your daddy and I tell you to."_

 _The only thing that Mercedes' little mind could come up with, was hysterics. She had heard them often enough in the last four months, to recognize them, spiked into her mom's voice. Mrs. Jones continued._

" _We can't stay here."_

" _Why is that? Why can't you stay here Nancy?" Burt asked._

" _I told you. Marcus wants us closer. I need to be…" The tone of Burt's voice stopped her._

" _Mercedes honey, go up stairs and play for a bit," he said._

" _I still haven't finished the lemonade, 'uncle' Burt."_

" _That's alright honey. We can finish it...soon. And I bet it's gonna taste great."_

 _Her sweet little face pleaded with Burt, as she began to climb the stairs. Her words almost broke his heart._

" _Don't make me go away. Don't let her take me away. Please, I want to stay with you." Burt had to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat._

" _Don't you worry about that. Go upstairs and make yourself happy."_

 _She chanced a look at her mother, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her mom said to her,_

" _You don't understand…" But Mercedes cut her off saying,_

" _I understand. I started understanding that night in the woods. It's you who don't understand, mama." At that, she turned away and trudged up the stairs._

* * *

M.J couldn't remember the last time she'd danced, but Mary Evans' pleading was so sweet and tiring at the same time, she gave in.

The two danced with each other and separately, the way two friends would. In her mind, M.J believed that dancing would help to burn off some of the heat and tension she was currently feeling, courtesy of Sam Evans.

It felt good to move. To let herself go with the music. To let her hips clock the beat.

She didn't think anything, when someone bumped her hard from behind, it was all part of being in a crowded space. But when it happened again, she couldn't help but to stop and glance around.

She was met with an angry stare, from the sulky blonde she'd met, all of those months ago, and earlier that night.

 _'What is this child's name again? Minky? Minny? Oh yeah, Mindy, that's it.'_

"Am I in your way?" she politely asked.

"You're damn right, you are," the blonde answered and gave M.J a pissy little shove.

"And you'd better get out of it," she finished. Mary stepped in.

"Cut it out Mindy," she warned. "I think you've had too much to drink." The blonde threw an angry stare Mary's way and said,

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to the bitch that's in my way."

She turned away from the pissed-off expression on Mary Evans' face and faced M.J again, saying,

"You can't just come around here and try to take what's mine."

"I don't have anything of yours," a defiant M.J responded.

"Sure damned right," Mary piped in, knowing exactly who the blonde was referring to.

Several dancers slowed, stopped or eased back, to stare at them. The attention had something akin to spiders crawling all over M.J's skin. To avoid further attention, she held up her arms and said, "If you want the floor, it's yours."

* * *

She started to back off at this point, but the blonde shoved her again.

Someone, a friend of the blonde, stepped in and tried to pull her away, seeing anger mounting on M.J's face. But the skinny blonde slapped her friend's hand away and grabbed M.J's arm.

"You'll be on the floor if you don't stay away from Sam."

The sneer on her face and the gleam in her eyes, told the story of someone having too much alcohol, possibly beer, to drink and too much frustration in her life. M.J held the blonde's eyes, as she yanked her scrawny hand off of hers.

Avoiding attention, side-stepping confrontation, those were hard-learned habits, but defending, or standing up for herself, those were ingrained. In a low deadly tone, she told the blonde,

"You don't want to touch me again." As annoying as ever, the brat asked,

"What are you going to do about it?"

Smirking, and drunk-sure of her ground, Mindy planted a hand on M.J's chest and started to push.

It only took a split second, but M.J reacted. She grabbed Mindy's wrist, twisted and had her squealing, as she dropped to her bony knees in pain.

"Don't touch me again," she repeated, then released her and walked away.

* * *

Mary Evans was so proud of M.J.

For good measure, she looked at the pitiful blonde on the ground and said,

"Let me remind you of something Mindy, Sam Evans is Dwight's and my off-spring, after God, he belongs to us, not you."

With that, she ran after M.J, calling out to her. "M.J, M.J! Wait up."

She caught up with her.

"I'm so sorry. She's drunk and stupid."

"It's all right Mary."

She lied. It wasn't. It wasn't alright.

She heard the buzz of the crowd, and felt eyes following her. She saw Dwight making his way through the crowd, coming towards them, with annoyance and concern written all over his face.

"I'm just going to go," she said to Mary. "Why ask for trouble."

"Oh, honey. Let's just go outside and take a walk. You shouldn't…" She politely cut off Mrs. Evans saying,

"I'm fine Mary." She gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and continued.

"She's drunk enough to try something again. I need to get home, anyway. I'll see you later. Tell Dwight I'm fine."

She looked up to see him nearing, a few feet away from them, and sent a friendly wave to him, as she walked off.

* * *

She kept her eyes straight ahead.

She dared not look back, for fear of meeting a certain shade of green, that warmed her, from the inside out.

She felt the need to run, but she didn't. By the time she'd reached her car, she felt as if she had run a mile in a sprint.

The shaking wanted to start, so she just braced herself against the door, until she could gather herself to drive. She straightened up and dragged her keys out of her pocket, when she heard someone coming.

It happened fast.

Before she could hit the lock release, Sam's hand closed over hers.

"Wait." His quiet command fazed her.

"I… I need to go."

"You need to wait until you stop shaking, before you run yourself off the road." He released her hand, to put both of his on her shoulders, turning her around.

"Do you want an apology?"

"You didn't do anything."

"No I didn't. Unless, you want to count, that I had sex with Mindy twice… when I was seventeen. That's about ten years ago, so it shouldn't apply here. But I'm sorry she upset you and made a fool of herself."

"She's drunk," she said.

"You know, like brilliance, I've never found that to be a decent excuse for being an asshole." She let out a short laugh at his rant and he relaxed a little.

"Me neither, but the fact remains, she's drunk. And she completely fixated on you Sam."

"I haven't given her a reason to be in ten years." Hints of frustration oozed out, but he kept his demeanor calm and his gaze on hers.

"Plus, for nearly five of those, she's been with, or married to someone I consider a friend. I'm not interested."

"Maybe you should tell her that."

* * *

Sam agreed. But he had, more times than he cared to remember. But given the current circumstances, he accepted that he'd have to do it again, or hurt someone he had a fondness for.

"I don't like scenes," she added.

"Well, unfortunately, they happen. I've played at enough bars and weddings… and I've seen every kind of scene there is, so I more or less get used to it. You handled it though, and that's all that matters."

She nodded, turned and hit the lock release.

He turned her around again, pressing her back against the door. Her thoughts screamed at her, _'No fair and not right,'_ for him to take over this way, seeing as her feelings were so raw, so un-settled.

No soothing and no gentleness, but, as a struck match to dry timber, his mouth took hers and set it all raging.

* * *

Sam wanted to make a statement, to reinforce what he'd said to her a while back.

He took her round face in his large hands, not being too gentle there either, as if a volcano was bubbling just under the surface, and kissed her breathless. After a while, he released her lips, and said to her,

"When you walked in, the air changed. I wasn't going to tell you that, because it gives you an advantage… and you're enough of a challenge…"

"I'm not trying to be a challenge," she threw in.

"I believe you. And that is one of the things, that make you one... ' .Mindy. I want you. I want you under me, over me and around me. And you want it too. I'm a good reader and I read that from you… clearly. I'm coming to your place when we wrap up tonight."

"I don't… "

Her words were cut short, by him taking her mouth again. He just took it. And she allowed it. She wanted it. Needed it.

"If there's a light on," he continued, "I'll knock. If there's not, I'll turn around and go home. You've got a couple of hours to figure it out. Text my mom when you get home, she's worried about you. My dad too."

He opened the door for her, helped her in, and kept it open while she yanked at her seatbelt. "Leave the light on M.J," he said.

He closed the door and watched as she drove off into the night.

* * *

Sam was a live wire.

He was mad, confused, frustrated, worried and excited.

He knew tonight could have been a game changer, but he had to drive it into M.J's head, that she is the only woman he is interested in.

Mindy went too far tonight.

She could have cost him the woman he loved, but his gentle persuasion helped to pull it all back.

He wasn't one for scenes either, and that is why he made the decision to speak to the blonde, another time and another place. If he had to take it to her husband, well then, he would. There was no way that he was letting Mindy's pettiness ruin what he had with M.J.

He made his way back inside to finish up the set for the night.

* * *

As M.J approached her house, she went in and turned off the light she'd left on for herself, very deliberately too.

"Just me, myself and I," she said.

She was determined not to dwell on the disaster of the evening, so she went back to the kitchen to make some tea and take something for the stress headache, banging in her skull.

"Sleep, that's the greatest escape," she muttered.

She took her tea and went out on her deck, watching the moon over the water.

She didn't want or need scenes, neither did she want complications.

This is what she wanted, the peace and quiet of moonlight over the water. It calmed her, and settled the anxiety that had wound up inside of her, caused by the altercation with a drunk, jealous woman.

She took a decision, she'd just have to stay away from the bar, from Sam and everyone else for a while.

Her heart clenched when she thought of being apart from Sam. There was no way she could it.

There was still plenty work left for her to do and she could take a trip to see her 'family.' A smile blossomed on her face when she thought of them. It was high time that she invited them to come and see the place. They could stay for a while, catch up and meet… Sam.

Once again, her thoughts went to him. No matter how much she tried to deny or avoid her feelings for him, they always come back and hit her, full force, leaving her completely overwhelmed.

Her decision to take things slow, came from a place of fear.

Fear of him finding out her background, about that monster and fear of him leaving her.

There was nothing really slow about the pace they were moving at. With the many heated kisses they have shared and are sharing, there's a need for more. She took a sip of her rapidly cooling tea, savoring the taste.

Her lips still felt tingly, from the kiss earlier, and the only thing she could think about is, more.

More kisses, more time with Sam, more of everything with him.

But was she ready for it? She was. With him, she was. She trusted him. It was hard to admit it at first, but in the last few days, she came to that realization.

He was never forceful with her, except for kissing her. But if she asked him to back off, he did. He cared about her feelings, about her happiness and he worried when she wasn't herself.

He admitted his love for her and never expected her to do the same. He allowed her to dictate any and every thing in their slightly complexed relationship. He never pushed her for details on her life before, except what she was willing to share. He was a gentleman, always and he had a good solid background, with a great family. In the grand scheme of life, she could do much worse.

Sam wasn't going anywhere. Her heart told her that. He was in it for the long haul. And she believed that, deep inside of her.

She finished her tea and went inside to check-up on her emails and her accounts.

* * *

As she worked, a bout of restlessness attacked her, so she got up and put on the fire, hoping that it would settle her.

She continued working, but the fire did nothing for her. After a few minutes, she abandoned her computer and made her way downstairs, to turn the light on.

"This is a mistake. A terrible, stupid, shortsighted mistake," she grumbled to herself. Internally, she said,

 _'There's still time to change my mind.'_

But she wouldn't. She's not going to change her mind.

She walked into the kitchen again, this time, pouring herself a glass of wine. She gulped it down and went back out in the house, waiting for Sam to knock.

* * *

 **I hope this made sense. Trying to update all of my stories, whilst working, dealing with my young sons and in essence, my day to day life, is not as easy as I thought. But I like the challenge. Much love to you.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you for your continued support for this and my other Samcedes stories. Whether you've followed, favorited, reviewed, or you simply read them, you have been terrific. THANK YOU.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession (Nora Roberts does)**

 **This was written in one go, so I hope it makes sense.**

* * *

 _Burt Hummel and Nancy Jones went backwards and forwards for hours, over the decision she'd made, to 'sell out' to a true, crime writer._

 _The heat had begun to boil down, when she admitted to seeing the error of her ways, cooling things a little._

 _She was standing over the sink, washing out the remnants of the wine she had drunk, to calm her nerves._

 _"I haven't had anything but church wine since I was carrying Mercedes. I used to be like her. Wasn't I? Strong, brave and a little bit fierce."_

 _"Yeah. You were."_

 _"I lost that Burt. I lost all of that."_

 _"You can find it again."_

 _"I don't know. I just don't know. Twelve years! He wasn't so strict at first. It happened gradually and I didn't notice. He didn't want me to work anymore, when I was pregnant with Mercedes, so I thought that would be fine...being able to make a real nest and stay home with my baby. Then, he didn't want me to go and see my mom and dad… it was one excuse after the other. All of a sudden, he didn't want them to come to our place. He allowed for the holidays, at first…"_

 _"He was cutting you off from everyone who loved you," Burt threw in._

 _"He said we were important. We needed to make our own lives. He became adamant about how things had to be. But, he worked hard, to pay the bills, and he never laid a hand on me, I swear, neither on Mercedes. His thoughts, what he wanted and what he said, seeped in. At the time, I missed my mom and dad so much, but I went along with everything… I'm so tired. She meant what she said, Burt, Mercedes I mean. She won't go with me. And if I make her, she'll run off. She'll make me choose between her and my husband."_

 _"You chose him over your family once before."_

 _"A woman cleaves to her husband." A weary sigh escaped her. "I took vows, Burt. I know he broke them. I know he did unspeakable things… at least, sometimes I know. But it's hard for me to break those promises, to accept that...the person I made them to, is the man in prison. I'm just so tired. All of the time. If I could, I would sleep the rest of my life away."_

 _"That's depression Nance. You have to give the therapy and the medication time. And, you have to give yourself time."_

 _"It feels like years already Burt. Every time I drive up to that prison, I tell myself it's the last time. I don't want to see those walls, to go through those guards, to sit there and talk to him through that glass, to have reporters and others wait for me to come, to try to talk to me. They yell things. You just don't know."_

 _"Then, stop being their target." She shook her head. She looked like misery consumed her whole existence. She continued._

 _"But then… Marcus has this way of turning me around, of making me doubt myself. I just end up doing what he tells me to do. I knew talking to those reporters was wrong. I knew signing that contract was wrong. But I'm not strong, or brave, or fierce, so, I just did what he told me to. He said that, I should take the money, and sign those papers. Put the money on his prison account and get a house close by. He wants me to keep coming every week and bring Mercedes to see him once a month."_

 _"I'd fight you on that. I might lose, but I'd fight you on taking her there. Carole will back me up."_

 _"I know. My baby girl will fight me too…" A sob escaped her and she knuckled a fresh tear way. "She won't go. She'd fight me like a tiger. I've got to do better by her. I know it."_

 _"Well, to start, don't go back." He laid his hand over hers, in a comforting manner, and felt hers stiffen. "Get stronger. Take a few weeks, and talk to the therapist about it."_

 _"I'll try. I swear. I'm so grateful to you and Carole. I'm so sorry I did what Marcus told me… after all that you and Carole have done for us."_

 _"We will get through this." She nodded and a ghost of a smile appeared on her weary features._

 _"I'm going to go up and talk to Mercedes for a minute. Then, we'll come down and finish make that lemonade."_

 _"That's a good start. I care about you Nance, and you know, Carole does too."_

 _"I know. Thank you…don't give up on me."_

 _"Never." She embraced him, gave him a tight squeeze, and walked up the stairs._

* * *

Sam caught the tiny glimmer of light up ahead, and everything inside of him unknotted.

He'd told himself, he'd accept it, if it was dark. The choice would always be hers. But, that glimmer lit up inside of him, like a torch.

 _'She left the light on, maybe just this once, but once will do,'_ he said to himself.

He parked his truck behind her car, took out his guitar case and slung it around his shoulders. He didn't want to leave it in the truck, not overnight, because, he fully intended to stay.

He walked as calmly as he could, up to her door and knocked. It took a few seconds, but, she opened the door.

Sam kept his eyes on her, with the dark house behind her.

"I'm coming in," he stated.

"Yeah." She stepped back, allowing him to enter. "You're coming in," she finished.

When he did, she closed the door behind him and locked it. He turned to her, his eyes trained on hers.

"I worked out a few things to say, if the light was on," he said.

"Would you have gone home if it wasn't?" He chose his words wisely, before he answered her.

"I can want. You can want. But, unless… rather, until you open the door, I stay out."

She believed that and realized that she could trust that. He might overwhelm her, but he'd never force her.

"Is that confidence or patience," she asked.

"It can be both."

"I'd go to the wall, telling myself that I'm not impulsive, but, I have this huge house, and I left the light on, when I swore I wouldn't."

"You're not impulsive." He unstrapped his guitar case, and set it against the wall by the door. "You just know how to make a decision," he followed up.

"Maybe…alright, I've made a decision. This is just sex."

* * *

He didn't smile, just kept his gaze…patience, confidence… locked on hers. She was lying. He knew that. Her eyes said otherwise.

"No, it's not. You know that, too. But I'm more than happy to start with that. Tell me what you want."

She looked flustered for a moment. He had the ability to read her, to know exactly what she was up to.

"Tonight, I want you and if that doesn't…" She was cut off when he gave her a yank, so that her body met his.

"I'm going to give you what you want."

She looked into his darkened eyes, seeing his promise, and much more there. She wasn't sure if it was anticipation or the intense way that he was staring at her, but, she shivered.

Her insecure mind screamed at her, to forget what she was about to do, but, through it all, a voice rung clear, silencing her insecurities.

 _'No time to back out now. Just let go and let him in.'_

She allowed that thought to permeate her mind. She'll let herself take, consume, even gorge on what is offered, and if it turned out to be a mistake, she'd regret it later.

* * *

Neediness engulfed her. She pulled at his jacket, fighting it off, as the smell of leather surrounded her.

As it fell to the floor, he backed her towards the stairs, pulled her sweater over her head so fast, and so smooth, it might have been air.

He pressed her back against the wall on the stairs, turning her blood to lava, the molten kind. He held her stare, lust evident in both pairs of eyes and said to her,

"This is mine." The only thing she could do, was, to nod in the affirmative. His large hands went to her bum, grabbing it and kneading it. He swore under his breath.

"You really need to be naked," he said.

His big hands took her bra-clad breasts, his callused thumbs running over her nipples, stealing her breath, while his mouth enslaved her.

He wanted her just like that, desperate, quivering, against the wall, but it'd be too quick. He'd be done too quick, he warned himself. He instead, dragged her up the rest of the stairs.

* * *

Mercedes wasn't sure what was happening to her.

The world spun, bursts of light through the dark, heat lightning, and shocked sounds she barely recognized, came from her. She was a different person, with only Sam in mind.

She tore at his shirt, needing to see flesh. To touch his flesh. And when she found it, she all but sank her teeth into it.

They fell on the bed, with streams of moonlight, slanting like bars, with the unearthly whisper of wind, over the water, on the outside. He reached behind her, flicked opened her bra and dragged the straps from her shoulders. It sailed out of his hands across the room, immediately forgotten.

To her, he smelled of leather, cologne and something genuinely him. He felt like hard muscle, roughened hands and he bore her down with his weight.

Panic wanted to come out, but it couldn't carve its way through her need. Desperate to meet those needs, she found his belt and fought the buckle.

* * *

His mouth was hot and felt as rough as his hands, when it closed over her breast.

She arched up, shocked by the bolt of pleasure and the sheer strength of it. Before she could draw the next breath, his hand was pressed between her legs, groping and teasing.

All of a sudden, her jeans became a hindrance. She wanted them gone. As if reading her mind again, he yanked them, along with her lace panties, down her hips, all the way down, until they were off and flung, in whatever direction.

* * *

Sam was in a state of desperation.

He needed her like the air he breathed.

Hot, wet, slick and smooth. Everything about her, drove him mad, with want and need.

Her nails bit into him, as she arched under his demanding mouth. Her heart, his heart, were like hammer blows, as he fought to free himself.

He couldn't stop even if he wanted to, even if the world ended.

The moment he thrusted into her, he thought it had. For an instant, it stopped, sound, breath and movement. Then it all rushed back, a tidal wave that battered, swept and pounded beyond reason.

He lost himself in it, in her. He gave himself over to it, to her. He's never had it this good before.

His long arms went under hers, gripping her shoulders like a vise, as he drove relentlessly into her. It was as if he was trying to reach something deep within her.

He felt her thick legs come up and wrap around his slender hips, drawing him deeper into her soaked body and his thrusts grew harder and faster.

At this rate, he didn't think he would last. He tried to focus on her succulent lips, claiming them in a mind-numbing kiss, but it wasn't helping.

Quietly he pled, "M.J? M.J…you need… you need to… release me…please."

* * *

M.J was in another world. It had to be heaven.

Sam knew exactly what she needed and he was giving it to her.

He kept his promise.

A dark headiness overtook her, and she tightened her legs around his hips, feeling him pulse within her. His lips tasted like honey, and she couldn't get enough.

She heard his impassioned pleas and grudgingly did as he asked, dropping her legs, and putting them over his calves . The moment she released his hips, he went into overdrive. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in him. He drove into her, faster and harder and she could feel herself inching away from his powerful thrusts.

He removed his hands from her shoulders, only to bring them around her waist, clasping them tightly under her back. His face, at this point, was buried in her neck, lightly biting it.

His words came out in pants, but she heard them clearly.

"You belong with me M.J. Do you hear me?" M.J couldn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded, but that wasn't good enough for Sam. "I want to hear you say it. Say it M.J."

"I belong with you, Sam," she all but screamed, when he delivered a particularly deep thrust.

"Good. Now open your legs."

And she did. As wide as she could, and as high as she could, she lifted them.

He completely let go, driving deeply into her, hitting that one spot, over and over again. When it broke in him, she broke with him. It was like falling into a hot pool.

She couldn't surface, couldn't reach the cool and the air. He had taken her deeper and further, than anyone had ever taken her before. She lay limp, still, with her heart racing.

Her body felt bruised and used, but so utterly relaxed.

Since no coherent thought would form, she reneged on the attempt. She decided to stay the way she was. With her eyes closed and gathering her strength, so that she wouldn't have to think about what to do next.

* * *

Sam too, was in a state.

He wanted to stay where he was forever. But he knew he couldn't. He was probably squashing M.J, so he decided to move, rolling off her.

* * *

M.J felt the bed dip with his weight, then, more movement, more shifting. Curiosity propelled her and she asked,

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my boots off. Nobody looks good with their pants around their ankles and their boots on. Your bra landed on the mirror. You want it?"

"What?" she asked, blinking her eyes open. In the slants of moonlight, she could see Sam sitting on the side of the bed, taking off his pants. "That's my bra over there?"

"Yeah. You want it?"

"Yes, I want it. Not now, but, can you reach it down for me?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. She walked right into that one, but he decided to let it go. He rose up, tall and built, walked to the mirror and easily took the bra down. He dropped it on a chair in the corner and turned to look at her.

 _'So casual. This is good. No intense pillow talk,'_ she thought to herself.

She almost reached for the sheet to cover herself, but thought it ridiculous to feel exposed, knowing what they had just done to each other.

"We will call that the fast and the furious," he said.

"The what?"

"I take it you've missed some movies."

He walked back over, obviously not bothered by being naked and sat on the bed. He continued,

"Still, it could've been faster and more furious, if I'd taken you against the stairs. You missed that part. You tend to miss the finer details. Like how you look right now, in the blue moonlight."

"I'm not complaining."

"Glad to hear it." He skimmed his finger over the little tattoo riding low on her left hip. "I like your tat. Lotus blossom, right?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"A symbol of hope, endurance, a beauty that grew out of mud." He was spot on, but she didn't stroke his ego. Instead she asked,

"What kind of rocker are you? No tats?" He smiled.

"I haven't found anything that I want permanently."

 _'Until now,'_ he internalized. He cupped the back of her head, leaned in and softly kissed her, surprising her. With a twinkle in his green orbs, he quietly said.

"We're going to slow things down this time."

"We are?" He smiled and eased her back.

"Definitely. I don't want to miss those finer details this time around. Wouldn't want you too either."

Later, M.J could attest that, he hadn't missed a single one.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. It was a little short, but I hope it was worth the read. Much love to you.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other Samcedes stories. This chapter contains a small time jump in the flashback.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

 _Nancy Jones walked up the stairs, to find her brave, strong daughter sitting on the floor, frowning, with a pencil in her hand, and staring at a worksheet._

 _Her eyes immediately snapped to hers._

 _They were dry and hot, full of defiance and a hardness, not commonly seen in someone at such a tender age._

 _"First of all, I want to say, that I was wrong and you were right. We won't be moving away. It was wrong of me to talk to those people. The paper, the magazine and the book writer. I can't go back and undo it, but, I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry Mercedes, for letting them have your picture. I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you, but I'm going to try to do better. I promise. I know it's easy to say that. It'll better if I show you…but…you need to give me a chance…to show you that I'll do better."_

 _Mercedes' little heart swelled in her chest._

 _She saw a glimpse of the mother she knew before this awful nightmare started._

 _"I'll give you a chance, Mama," she cried, as she sprung into her mother's arms._

 _"I love you so much, my brave little girl." She dropped a kiss on the top of Mercedes' head and continued, "I'll understand if you want to take your time with me…and I won't hold it against you."_

 _Mercedes shook her head and tightened her grip on her mom, feeling happier than she did in months._

* * *

 _As time went on, her mom did better._

 _There were dips, some of them deep, causing rifts with the Hummels and her young daughter. She had opened the door that Burt had tried to close, by giving interviews and selling photographs._

 _It engendered more. Creating side stories on the serial killer's family and friends, with reporters stalking their every move. Paparazzi captured pictures of Mercedes leaving school and one of her on the playground, with her best friends, who had come over for a weekend visit._

 _Television talk shows fueled the machine with discussions, with so-called experts and the tabloids were relentless._

 _Word spread that, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author, had a book deal in cooperation with Marcus Tyrone Jones and his wife, prompting the media circus to begin anew._

* * *

 _As the new year began, Mercedes and her mother sat together in the front parlor, sipping hot chocolate, with a fire snapping, and a glittering holiday tree, shining like new hope in the window._

 _It should have felt good, Mercedes thought, the fire, the hot chocolate, the tree, even getting to stay up until Twelfth Night, but something was wrong. She felt it deep in her soul._

* * *

 _A few weeks later, her mom lost her job at the café, because, the reporters found out where she worked and the manager let her go._

 _This brought about more problems for the small family. They would have to leave. It was tough, but if they were to get any peace, they needed to go._

 _"I've found a great place, just for us, to call our own," her mom cautiously said._

 _The knots in Mercedes' stomach begun to un-coil. As much as she loved living at her current home, she hated the daily reminders of what that monster did. As delirious as a puppy, she asked,_

 _"Can we go see it." Relief flooded Nancy Jones' persona. She was worried for a bit._

 _"You bet…the thing is though…it's in New York."_

 _Mercedes looked at her mother, who was sitting with her fingers twisted together. She knew it was for the best._

 _"You're moving because of us. Because of those people who won't leave us alone. It's for the best. If this is a new place and all. I can be new too. I want to cut my hair…" Mrs. Jones smiled. She went to her daughter, embraced her and said,_

 _"Oh, Mercedes. Are you sure about that?"_

 _"I'm sure Mama. I want to. I don't want to look like the girl they've been taking pictures of. I can do it myself." A giggle escaped Mrs. Jones._

 _"Oh, no! I draw the line right there, missy. I'll take you to a proper salon and get it done right." A sweet smile lit up Mercedes' pretty face._

 _"They can still find us, but maybe again, they won't, if I don't look the same. I don't care what my name is. As long as it isn't Jones. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings, Mama."_

* * *

 _Nancy Jones went silent._

 _It did hurt, but not nearly as much. However, she pasted a brave look on her face and said,_

 _"Not really. I'm trying Mercedes."_

 _"You are Mama. And you're doing so much better, just like you said." She squeezed her mom tight, mostly out of love and out of duty. "This will be even better. I just know it."_

 _Mrs. Jones lapped up the warmth of her daughter's embrace. It felt great, to be in her good books again._

 _"New York, here we come," she shouted. Mercedes reiterated, saying,_

 _"New York, here we come!"_

* * *

 _Within a few weeks, they were packed and ready to move._

 _With Burt's help, the movers came at night from time to time, with small trucks, carting off stuff, bit by bit._

 _And, in March, when spring break came, with sweeping winds and some spitting snow, the Jones' left their old house, in the middle of the night, like thieves, heading for their new home, in the great city of New York._

 _Mercedes watched the house recede through the windows of the car and felt a hard tug. She was happy there for a time. But then, she faced forward, flipped her fingers through her short hair, which her mother had dubbed, 'Mercedes: The Short and Sassy,' and said to herself, 'A new look, a new place, and a new start. I'm not going to look back.'_

 _ **Five years later**_

 _At sixteen, M.J has lived a life Mercedes Jones could never have imagined. She had a pretty room in a lovely brownstone, in a city full of color and movement._

 _She studied hard, and got excellent grades, with an eye focused on Providence College in Rhode Island and a degree in photography._

 _Her mom had given her a little point-and-shoot Fuji, for her first Christmas in New York, and her interest blossomed. Her skill improved also, and she was given a serious Nikon for her sixteenth birthday._

 _With her gift, she joined the Yearbook Committee and the newspaper at her high school, as the official photographer, racking up experience and an impressive portfolio, she hoped to use, to get into the college of her choice._

 _During that time, she'd worked hard to lose her accent, wanting more than anything to be just like the other girls, and of course, to have nothing left of the last five years._

 _Hints of it slipped through, every now and again, but, by the time she'd started high school, the slips were rare._

 _She still had her best friends, with whom she spent as much time as she could, whenever the opportunity arose. Besides them, she kept one or two other acquaintances, dated once in a while, and never kept a steady boyfriend. Too much drama, from what she'd observed._

* * *

 _Days went by without her giving her old home and all that happened there, much thought._

 _For a while, she was just a regular teenager, worrying about her grades, her wardrobe, listening to music and meeting 'friends' for pizza._

 _She kept in touch with Katie, mostly through email._

 _Katie had never gone back to school and lost a whole year, before she transferred to Penn State. When she graduated, M.J sent her a card and a framed photo she'd taken herself, of a cherry tree, full of pink blooms and promise._

 _It brought happy tears to Katie's eyes. There was great significance in that gift._

* * *

 _On her twenty-first birthday, she gave herself a present. She took the train to New York, to spend the entire day with M.J._

 _Whenever M.J looks back at that day, she remembers her own nerves, like what should she wear and what should she say. Alas, she greeted Katie with speechless pleasure, at seeing her waiting, as promised, on the observation deck of the Empire State Building._

 _'So pretty and so…normal looking,' M.J thought._

 _All the nerves, the sudden shyness, vanished the instant Katie saw her, and rushed to her, with her arms opened wide._

 _"You're so tall! You're almost as tall as me…but…Oh gosh! It's great to see you Mercedes."_

 _Hearing her given name, caused her to tense up. No one has called her that for the longest time. Katie felt it, but never questioned it, as she held her heroine tight, swaying back and forth._

 _"You came. It's the most special birthday there is and you came…here," M.J said._

 _"I'm having the most special birthday there is, because of you. I wanted to spend it with you. I wanted to meet you here, even though it's super corny, because I wanted to say that everything I can see from here, is because of you. And I wanted to give you this," she rambled, holding out a wrapped box._

 _M.J was surprised and floored._

 _"But it's your birthday. I have a present for you!" she exclaimed. A smile bloomed on Katie's face._

 _"Let's save mine for later, over lunch maybe. I really want you to have this now, here, high in the sky. You brought me out of the ground Mercedes, and now, we're standing high in the sky. Open it, okay?"_

 _An overwhelmed M.J did as told._

 _She stared at the contents with tearful eyes. It was a necklace, made up of three thin silver chains, holding an oval, with a purple iris suspended in its center._

 _"It's beautiful…It's just…so...beautiful," she cried._

 _"I have to say, it was my mom's idea. She said flowers have meanings. This one, the iris, it has a couple of them. One of the meanings is valor and another is friendship. You qualify for both. I hope you like it."_

 _"I do. I love it. Katie…"_

 _"Let's not cry. I want to cry too, but let's not cry today. Let's put the necklace on and then you can show me some of this great city. It's my first time being here."_

 _"Okay. Okay." It was hard. That day, she learned to hold back happy tears, as tears of misery. "Where do you want to go first?" she asked._

 _A huge smile lit up Katie's face._

 _"I'm a girl. I want to go shopping!" She laughed as she helped M.J fastened the necklace. "And I want to go someplace, where I can have a glass of champagne at lunch. I'm legal now!" A giggling M.J blurted out,_

 _"I love you," then flushed. "That sounds weird…" she countered._

 _"No, no, it doesn't. We've got something between us nobody else does. We're the only ones who really understand, what it took for both of us, to get right here, right now. I love you back. We're going to be friends forever."_

* * *

Sam awoke a little disoriented, as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

It was still dark outside, an indication that it was very early. Beside him, M.J stirred, reminding him of exactly where he was, and of the events that took place the night before.

Suddenly, his thoughts flooded with some interesting things and games he could play at 'dark-thirty' in the morning.

She sat up before he could make his move and said, "I'm getting up. It's part of my morning's ritual. Getting dressed is also part of that ritual."

To Sam's severe disappointment, she moved away in the dark, and started rummaging around. He could see her silhouette pulling on some kind of pants, causing an almighty pout to form on his full lips.

"You get up at five, every morning?"

"Yes, I do."

"Even weekends? This is America."

"Yes Sam, even weekends, in America. Go back to sleep. You don't have to get up."

"Why don't you come back to bed. I'm already up, I'm afraid," he said, looking at the bulge beneath the sheet, that was barely covering his lower half. "We can try out a new morning ritual."

The naughty tone of his voice held her like a vise.

The things he did and the way he made her feel, from their first time the night before, all came rushing back to her. She flushed and tried to keep her voice as steady as she could, as she replied to him.

"Tempting, but in about ten minutes, I have to start preparing breakfast. Ritual, remember?" she playfully asked.

"I can work with ten minutes." She laughed. He liked her laugh. It had a smoky morning sound to it.

"Go back to sleep Sam. I need a warm beverage to get my blood pumping."

He bit back the racy retort he had on the tip of his tongue. If he wasn't getting sex, maybe…

"Am I included in your breakfast ritual?" She was still just a shadow, a short, curvy one, already heading to the door, when she answered,

"Course you are, Mr. Evans."

* * *

When she walked out, Sam laid there for a moment with a smile on his handsome face.

Normally, he'd get another hour, maybe an hour-and-a-half, more on a Saturday. But if he did, he might not get a hot breakfast.

 _"So, she's an early riser. I can handle that. Not a snuggler either,"_ he said to himself.

That equaled bonus points in his book. He didn't mind staying tangled up for a while after sex, but when it came to sleep, he wanted his space. Apparently, she did too.

Not only was she amazing in bed, but, she didn't expect him to cuddle her like a teddy bear for hours after. Big bonus points. And she cooked.

He found his pants, and tugged them on. When he couldn't find his T-shirt, he turned on the mermaid light. It made him smile. A woman who'd buy a naked mermaid lamp, more points.

The room smelled like her.

 _"How'd she do that?"_ he asked himself.

He found his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He noticed that some of her clothes were still in packing boxes. Curious, he crossed over and glanced into them.

She was organized. He appreciated that.

He spotted a boxed toothbrush, in what he termed to be a 'bathroom box' and figured, everyone would be happier if he took it.

He crossed over again, to use the bathroom.

Taking a glance at her kick-ass shower, he realized he could use one, instead, he emptied his bladder and went in search of hot coffee.

* * *

He wandered down, seeing the evidence of his dad's work as he did so.

He had to admit, the place had turned out to be a showstopper. It wasn't glitzy, nor fussy. Someone else might have wanted that, but not M.J. She kept it solid and handsome, with some serious respect for history, location and style.

He paused by the living-room. Again, the color worked. Whilst the gas logs worked in the bedroom, he was glad she kept the original wood-burning here.

His mind drifted to the yard, it could use a face-lift.

She could do with some help, clearing out the overgrown shrubs, pruning back, and digging up weeds. As of now, the view from the front was just plain sad.

He worked his way forward, wondering for the umpteenth time, what in the hell, one person would do with so much space.

He stopped short. Right at the library door, and, for the first time in his life, he felt genuine envy, deep, deep envy.

He'd seen the early stages of the built-ins, when he'd stopped by his dad's place a couple of times, but the finished product beat it all to hell.

The natural cherry-wood, will glow red-gold in the light and simmer like a fire in the evenings. And all of that space…there was so much that he could do with that book space.

He could just imagine getting himself a big leather chair, and angling it to face the fire and the view out of the window. And if he changed the chair to a couch, he could live in that room.

He came out of his thoughts, as he looked at the empty shelves and cases. It stabbed at his book-lover's heart. They needed to be filled.

He moved off, just a few steps and entered the kitchen.

* * *

The scent of the coffee reached him, drawing him in.

He found her sitting on one of four stools, that wasn't there on his last visit, drinking coffee and looking at her tablet. Without looking up, she said,

"Help yourself."

He did. He went for one of the big white mugs, instead of the daintier blue cups and poured his coffee.

"I found a toothbrush in one of your boxes. I used it."

"That's fine."

She looked up then, her brown eyes causing his heart to flip inside of his chest. She took a sip of her coffee, as she studied him. He looked rugged and extremely handsome, with his jeans zipped, but not buttoned and his forest green T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest, bringing out the green in his eyes.

His hair was mussed, just right, along with the morning stubble he was sporting, enhancing his features, and his feet bare.

 _"What the hell is he doing, drinking coffee in my kitchen before dawn? God! I wish I had taken up his offer to get back in bed."_

She felt hot all of a sudden and it magnified by the way in which he steadily watched her, as she did him.

Withering under his gaze, she set her coffee down and playfully said,

"So, I'm trying to decide if you get a bowl of cereal, which is my 'go-to breakfast' or, if I should try out my new omelette pan."

"Do I get to vote?"

"I believe I know your vote and, lucky for you, I really want to try out that pan."

"Okay, miss know-it-all. I'll make a deal with you. If you cook in it, I'll wash it."

"That seems fair."

* * *

She rose then, went to the refrigerator, took out the things she needed and set them on the counter.

He looked at the items, eggs, cheese, bacon, green peppers and tomatoes. It looked serious. He watched her move around, washing the items and drying them. Her hands moved with an ease and confidence, that came from experience, making her look at home, with what she was doing.

She wordlessly chopped, sliced, tore up leaves she got from a pot on her window-sill, and whisked, whilst he drank his coffee.

"What makes it an omelette pan?" he asked.

"It's shallow with sloping sides," she replied, while pouring the eggs over the peppers and tomatoes she'd sautéed. After that, she crumbled the bacon it, and grated cheese over that.

She threw him a look, as she eased the spatula around the edges of the cooking egg mix and playfully asked,

"I wonder if I still got what it takes?" A slow smile evolved on Sam's face, as he ogled her.

"From where I'm standing, you do."

"Maybe, maybe not," she replied, as she tipped the pan, and gave it a gentle shake. "I'm taking the gamble."

Before his astonished green orbs, she jerked the pan, so that the egg flew up and flipped over. She caught it neatly back in the pan, and smiled in satisfaction.

"I've still got it."

"Impressive."

"It could've been a disaster. I haven't made a serious omelette in years." She used the spatula to fold it, pointed and said, "The bread is in that drawer, pop some in the toaster."

He moved off and did as told, whilst she slid the finished omelette out, placed it in the oven to keep warm and did the same thing again.

"I officially love this pan!" she exclaimed.

"I'm pretty fond of it myself," Sam replied. A smirk blossomed on M.J's face. She took the finished plates, sprinkled paprika over them and added the toast.

"I don't have a table as yet."

"Sunrise is not that far off…"

"My thoughts exactly. Take the plates and I'll bring the coffee," she said.

* * *

A few minutes later, they were sat on the deck outside of her room, eating, while the stars went out and the sun began its accent in the sky.

"I thought the library was the only thing I was going to envy here. But this sunrise…red, pink and pale blue, joined with gold…that's another one."

Her pretty face lit up with a smile.

"It never gets usual. I've taken dozens of photos of sunrises here, and every one is different. If this place had been a dirt hut, I would've still bought it…just for the sunrise."

"Fascinating! Is this where you eat your cereal?"

"Yep. Or whatever. I probably will, even after I get a table. I need to look for one for out here, too and some chairs."

"You need books. That library needs books. I haven't seen any around here as yet."

"I use my reader when I'm travelling." She arched an eyebrow at him, seeing a certain look on his face. "Do you have something against e-readers?" she asked.

"No. Do you have something against actual books?"

"No. I have to send for mines. I don't have as much as you do, but I have some. And now that I have the room, I can collect more."

That made him think of the book on his wall shelf, the one that told him things about her, she didn't want anyone to know.

"Do you still want pictures of mine…the books?" She hesitated and he caught it, though it was brief and well covered.

"Yeah, I would. It'll make a statement."

"What will you do with them?"

"Not sure. It depends on how they look. If they work the way I want, they will go to a gallery, most likely. And…I may do some as notecards for my website."

"You do notecards?"

"Yes. It always surprises me how well they sell, too. People still use them and plenty of book-lovers out there buy them. Your wall of books, I could get some good angles on that and maybe a stack of them by a lamp, with one open, as if being read…Ooh! I could use your hands for that."

"My hands?"

"Yes! You have big hands. Big man hands, slightly rough and a callus here and there. It'll make a great shot," she said excitedly, already picturing it in her mind.

"Piece of cake. My hands holding an open book, I could do that. Do you have anything going on tomorrow?"

"Why?" she asked.

 _"Always cautious,"_ he thought. "Well…you could take the pictures tomorrow…and…since you'd have your equipment, you'd be in your zone…to take the shot for that CD I told you about. I could get the guys together…"

* * *

She thought about it for a beat. It crossed her mind that he'd indeed asked her about the CD shot before.

"I'm not sure what you guys want."

"Something that sells CDs. You're the professional."

"I have to see what you've used before."

He took out his phone, noting that he had half a dozen texts to check, then scrolled through for the previous CD shot. He showed it to her. Five guys with instruments on a stage, at the bar. Done in moody black-and-white.

"It's good."

"Says she without enthusiasm," he playfully said. She slapped at his arm with a smile on her face.

"No, it's good. It's just not particularly interesting or creative. There's nothing here that sets you apart."

"What would you do?"

"I'm not sure yet. Where do you practice?"

"In one of the back bays, in the garage."

"Well, I'll start there."

His eyes remained on her, as thoughts ran through his head. He wanted, seriously wanted, to see where she'd start and where she'd end. And what she'd do.

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"No, I guess not. At least I can get a sense and a feel of things. Black T-shirts are okay, but have everyone bring a couple other choices, with color."

"I can do that. By the way, that was one hell of an omelette. Thank you. I'll get things washed up."

It wasn't much, so it was easily done. Maybe he'd still have time to…. He snapped out of his thoughts and softly asked,

"Is it okay if I grab a shower before I head to work?"

"You're working today?"

"Yes. Eight to four, this week, Monday through Saturday. I'm handling all emergencies, towing and road service, twenty-four-seven, besides the management stuff. If I have a gig, my dad or someone else will cover for me."

"Oh, alright. And sure, you can use the shower."

"Great."

He grabbed her then, with those big, rough hands and had her backed up against the refrigerator in a flash, plundering her mouth with his hungry one.

"Let's go do that."

A breathless M.J had planned to get out of the house early, exploring on her way to the hardware store, for a few wall hangings and maybe a table. But his hands were under her shirt and his thumbs….

"I could use a shower," she panted, as he lead her to the stairs.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. I hope it was good enough. Much love to you.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for your continued support. It is greatly appreciated. I'm trying to move this story along, so I will be updating more regular than before. My other Samcedes stories are much shorter and since this is my first one for Glee, I would like to finish it before them. Bear with me. I'm still going to throw in an update for each of the others, but this is my priority. Much love to you.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters.**

* * *

 _On one of her last visits, to the therapist she had been seeing, for the last year, M.J was asked how it felt to have seen Katie._

 _Her response was simple, "It made me remember the light," she said._

 _She had gone back to the therapist, after a while, when her mother had hit one of those deep dips._

 _Mrs. Jones was now working as a waitress at a restaurant, and was doing alright. Except when she wasn't. She sometimes went into the dark, and forgot to remember the light._

 _Her doctor called it depression, but M.J knew that, as bad as depression was, her mom's dark times were worse._

 _In those dark times, her mom took too many pills. Once, when she'd taken too many, she had to go to the hospital._

 _Right after the book came out, there were big ads for it, all over the city, and her mom went to one of those dark places, where she, once again, took too many pills._

 _The author had titled the book, '_ _ **Blood in the Ground: The Legacy of Marcus Tyrone Jones**_ _' and all of the bookstores had big displays._

 _He was a serious author, with a polished, academic style, and he hyped it up all over the talk-shows. He also did interviews with magazines and newspapers, where M.J's name came up as often as her father's._

 _For M.J, it felt as though her life had caught up to her happiness. Whenever she saw those ads, and those displays, she knew a terrible part of her life, beat inside them. And it made her afraid. And shame._

 _With it brought understanding though. She understood her mom's fear, her shame and it made her tread carefully. When her mom remembered the light, things were good and simple._

 _One of her favorite pictures, was one she took of her mother, dancing a funky little dance, at a party in the summer. Her three best friends were there, along with Burt and Carole. It was one of the happiest days of her life._

 _The light had been good, inside and out and her mom had looked so pretty, laughing as she danced her cares away. It was an easy decision, to give her mom that picture. It was supposed to be a reminder of how things should be._

* * *

 _When the dark came back, her mother had to stay in bed, with the curtains drawn tight, leaving her to take charge, often taking food on a tray to her. In those times, M.J knew exactly how deep the dark was, especially when she saw that photo lying face down, as if her mom couldn't stand the sight of her own happiness._

 _Still, weeks, sometimes months would go by, when everything seemed normal. Then, it was only time for studying, fretting over a test, or wondering what to wear to a movie._

 _One night, she was at the movies with a group of friends, getting ready to watch 'Spider-Man.' She had her popcorn and her orange soda, so she settled down to enjoy the previews, just as the house-lights dimmed._

 _One of her friends, a girl named Dakota, immediately started to make-out with her boyfriend of the moment. M.J ignored them, and the smacking noises the others were making, in the row behind._

 _She loved the movies, and if she were honest, she loved movies like Spider-Man and The Lord of the Rings, more so than the romantic ones her girlfriends sighed over._

 _She enjoyed movies where people had to do something, or, overcome something. Even if it meant getting bitten by a radioactive spider._

* * *

 _The screen filled with the point-of-view, of someone driving a truck. She knew all about that, from studying photography. She liked noticing details._

 _Other things begun to catch her eye, to catch her by the throat. It dawned on her. She knew those roads. She knew that truck._

 _When it veered off into the woods, bumping over a rough trail, she felt a crushing weight in her chest. Scenes flashed before her eyes. The hole in the ground, the photos, a woman bound on a mattress, with her eyes full of terror….._

 _She couldn't breathe._

 _The scene flashed to a house near the edge if the woods… their house. Oh God! It was their house. A chubby little girl with milk-chocolate skin, and long hair, looking out through a window, on a hot storm-waiting night._

 _Once again, the scene changed, to a family, her family, in a church. Her father, her mother and her, sitting together, among their friends and neighbors. The next thing she saw, was the same little girl, reaching for the lock on a rough wood door._

 _M.J couldn't watch anymore._

 _The popcorn fell out of her hand, and spilled everywhere. The soda landed with a wet slap, as she jumped up, making her friends call out to her._

 _Their shouts of, 'Hey, watch it!' and 'What the hell, M.J!' fell on death ears. She was bolting for the doors._

 _She vaguely heard the announcer blare behind her, "A story if depravity. A story of courage. Daughter of Evil. Coming soon."_

 _Her knees buckled, and her chest burned, as she stumbled into the lobby. She fell on all fours, while the room spun. A voice sounded in her foggy mind, just as hands reached for her._

 _It was one of her male friends, Matt, who had un-knowingly took off behind her._

 _"Come on M.J. Get up. You have to get up."_

 _He pulled her up and half dragged, half carried her out into, the heavy September air, and the too bright lights of Times Square._

 _"Look at me. Look at me M.J." He was taller than her, with hazel eyes, which held both worry and shock._

 _"Can't breathe," she panted._

 _"Yes, you can….and you are. Just take it slow."_

 _"It was…"_

 _"Whatever it was, don't say it. Just breathe. If anybody asks, I'll say you were sick… you felt sick and decided to go home."_

 _M.J looked at her friend with new eyes. Concern and worry marred his handsome features, creating a fondness inside of her for him. His kindness reminded her of her best friend Kurt._

 _She started to relax, as her trust grew for her friend._

 _"Let's walk. Come on," he said. She managed two shaky steps, and stopped, to brace her hands on her knees, and lean over. A sick feeling erupted in her stomach, and after a short spell of dry retching, the queasiness passed._

 _"Did you know? Do you know…do you?" she frantically asked. He took her hand in a firm grip and pulled her down Broadway._

 _"I heard stuff…you know…and…I wasn't sure what to believe. Then…I heard they were making a movie… out of…what…happened…with…."_

 _He took a shy glance at her pale features. There were one or two rumors about what happened to M.J and her family, but nothing was ever proven._

 _When word of the movie and book broke, he pieced it together, but kept his silence._

 _"I didn't know they'd finished making it, and I didn't know that they'd show the damn preview during Spider-Man."_

 _"That was my home."_

 _"It was said to have been filmed on location."_

 _"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped and shot her a guilty look._

 _"I didn't think you'd want to hear. And…it's not my business. I just feel awful for you. I can't imagine what it's like to go through something so horrendous and still be sane."_

 _"However bad you think it is, it's ten times worse. I wouldn't wish any of this for my worst enemy. It's been five years, and I still haven't put it behind me."_

 _"Have you tried to put it behind you?"_

 _"Yes. Most of the time, but, my mama hasn't. There was this time when she said she was going for a weekend, with a friend of hers, to some spa. She didn't. She took the bus and went to see my…that…him…in prison."_

 _"How do you know that?" She shrugged and entered a nearby café, behind him._

 _"She's done it before. When I went on the field trip, she said she had a stomach virus, but she went to see him. I found the bus tickets in the bathroom trash, for both times and one other."_

* * *

 _Her friend, Matt, led them to a table, way down at the back, and helped her to a chair. Just as they were seated, a waitress arrived and he ordered two Cokes._

 _M.J continued._

 _"I'm not proud to say this, but, I go through her room. And that is how I know she's been writing to him. She has letters from him, that she picks up from a P.O. box."_

 _I'm not judging you, because I get why you're doing it, but, you shouldn't disrespect her privacy."_

 _"Somebody has to…and who better to do it? Why is she doing this?"_

 _"She's submissive and dependent. He's dominated her the whole time. It's like emotional abuse with a battering."_

 _"Where do you get that?" His easy smile disarmed her._

 _"I look shit up. He's a psychopath and a narcissist. That's why he gives the cops another name and location every couple of years. Another victim and where he buried her, keeps him in the news, and keeps getting him attention. He's a liar and he's manipulating your mom. He twists her up because he can."_

* * *

 _The waitress arrived with their drinks._

 _"Thanks," he said, sending her a quick smile. He turned his attention back to M.J, just as she said,_

 _"He was the one who talked her into giving more interviews to that writer. And when the book finally came out, she couldn't handle it. She OD'd."_

 _"Does he know where you are?"_

 _"I don't know, but he sure as hell know we're in New York. He doesn't care about me. My mom is his target."_

 _"Don't say that. You're his daughter. He has to care about you."_

 _"I feel as though he never did. Why do you think he want it? The attention, the fame."_

 _"He's right up there with Bundy, Dahmer, Ramirez…all serial killers, M.J. Pay attention."_

 _"I don't want to pay attention. Why would they want to make a movie about him? And why would anyone want to see it?"_

 _"It's as much about you as him, but…" he paused and turned his hand over, gripping hers harder. "The title's you, not him. How many ten-year-old kids have stopped a serial killer?"_

 _"I don't want…"_

 _"True or false? He would've killed Katie if you hadn't gotten her out."_

 _She went quiet for a moment, as she reached for the necklace Katie had given her, on top of the world. Of course, it was true. That monster would have continued to have his way with her, until he had his fill and then he would have killed her._

 _She wordlessly nodded in the affirmative. Matt went on._

 _"And when he'd finished with her, he'd have gotten another unsuspecting girl. Who knows how many he would've killed."_

 _"I look a little like him, do you know that?"_

 _"No, you don't. From what I've seen online, you only share the same eye color. That's all. And you're not like him."_

 _"No, I'm nothing like him," she said. The hardness, determination and the bright intelligence in her eyes spoke as true as the words, which came from her lips. "I'm never going to be like him, or my mother. He won't ever be able to twist me up, to do what he wants."_

* * *

 _Matt smiled at his friend. His heart wished for more, but she wasn't interested, not that way. She was healing, or at least trying to, as she dealt with the blow life had given her._

 _It would take a while, probably years, before she could ever commit herself to any man or any relationship, romantic wise. Until then, he'd be her friend for as long as she'd have him._

 _"Bottom line M.J, you stopped him. You have to try to put it behind you."_

 _She looked at him, right in the yes, with that determined, hard look, she sported more and more, and said to him,_

 _"I'm done. When you put something behind you, it'll have eyes on your back. I prefer to keep it in front of me, from now on, so that I can see where it's going and what it's planning to do."_

 _That scared Matt._

 _What she said and the coolheaded logic behind it, spoke volumes._

* * *

M.J blamed the sexual haze in the shower that morning, for agreeing to have pizza with Sam, after the workday.

It wasn't a date, she kept telling herself, rather, she assured herself, but she decided to go wild and wear the pewter leggings instead of the black.

They were having sex now, so dating was un-necessary.

If it hadn't been the haze, she would have made an excuse, or, at least suggest to him, to pick up the pizza and bring it to her place. On her turf.

* * *

As he pulled a fresh shirt on, Sam figured he was running right on time.

Hitting M.J up for pizza had been inspired, especially since she'd been hot, wet and limp, in the shower, when he came up with the idea. He also figured it was high time they had an actual date. Pizza was always a good starter.

He was still on call, but those calls, if any, would go straight to his cell phone. If he was lucky, he'd get her back to her place and into bed without being called to tow anything or anyone.

He opened the door to head out, but pulled up short.

* * *

Sean Olsen, an old friend and Mindy's husband stood, with his big, raw-knuckled hand poised to knock…or punch.

"Hey, Sean."

"Hey, Sam. You heading out?"

"Yeah, but I've got a minute. You want to come in?"

"Nah, that's okay, I'll walk down with you."

He started down the steps, on his slightly bowed legs, as Sam locked up.

Sam got lost in his thoughts. If his memory served him, Sean has mooned over Mindy for as long as he's known him. He finally won her, when she came back home from two years of college.

He'd won her by punching a guy she'd taken up with, who liked using her as a punching bag. It wasn't the first or the last guy, Sean has punched over Mindy. And Sam really didn't want to be the next guy.

He didn't sense anger, neither did he see the hard light in Sean's eyes, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"I came to say sorry for how Mindy acted last night. I heard about it."

"No biggie Sean. It's done and dusted."

"She's still got a thing for you." Sam kept a close watch, in case that hard light came a-calling. He chose his words wisely.

"Sean, you know there's nothing there, and hasn't been since high school. I would never cross that line with you…or anyone."

"I know that Sam. And I wanted to tell you, I know that, so you know. Someone was making a fuss like there was something going on, but I know better. Plenty of other people know better too."

"Okay. Good to know. We're cool?"

"Course. I would like to apologize to the lady…the new lady. It's M.J, right? But she doesn't know me, so I didn't want to go up there and scare her or anything."

A small smile stretched over Sam's lips.

"Don't worry about that Sean. You don't have to apologize to anybody."

"I feel bad about it, all of it." He placed his huge hands in his pockets, gazed out at nothing in particular and quietly asked, "You don't know where she is, do you?"

"M.J?"

"No, not her, Mindy."

"Sorry Sean, I don't."

"She's not at her place, the one she has now and she's not answering her phone. She was mad at her friend last night, because she told her she was embarrassed at her behavior. After they had words, Mindy took off…she'd been drinking…"

"Was she driving?"

"I don't think so, but it's not a far walk back to the place she has now. She didn't go into work today either. And they're quite pissed with her."

Sam thought about it. Hungover, mortified and mad, she's probably in bed with the covers over her head. But he didn't say that to Sean. Instead, he said,

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"If you see her, maybe you can give me a call, so I know she's okay and just in one of her moods."

"I can do that."

"I'll let you go. When you see the lady, M.J…or…if you see her, tell her I'm sorry about the trouble Mindy caused."

"I'll do that. Take it easy."

"It's the best way to take it," he said, with a small smile on his face. He climbed into his truck and left with a small wave of his hand.

Sam was now running late. He climbed into his own truck and headed out.

* * *

M.J was already there, sitting in a booth and looking over the menu. He slid into the seat, across from her.

"Sorry. I got into a thing just as I was leaving."

"That's alright Sam. I was just trying to decide if I have room for the Calamari starter."

"If I split it with you, you would."

"Okay, that settles it. This seems to be a busy place on Saturday night," she said, putting the menu aside.

"Always has been. You look nice."

"Better than I did a few hours ago?" she asked with a cheeky smile on her face.

"You always look good. Hi Sherri."

The waitress was young and fresh, with doe eyes and sunny blonde hair, streaked with a pretty shade of lavender. She pulled out a pad and responded, with a bright smile on her face.

"Hi Sam. Hi," she directed at M.J. "Can I get you some drinks?"

"A glass of Chianti, thanks, with some ice water on the side," M.J answered.

"You got it. Sammy?"

"Yuengling. How's the hatchback running?"

"It gets me where I'm going and back, thanks to you. I'll be right back with your drinks."

M.J turned to him and threw a statement at him, framed with slight jealousy.

"I guess you get a lot of people where they're going and back." Sam smiled internally. He allowed the slight tinge in her voice to slide.

"It's what I do. Listen, if a big lumbering guy comes to your place…"

"What? What guy?" Sam waved his hand around.

"He's a harmless guy. His name is Sean. He's Mindy's ex, though they're still married. He came by just as I was leaving."

M.J straightened up in her seat, and her shoulder blades turned to iron.

"If he's mad about last night, he should be mad at the person who started it."

"It's not that. He's a nice guy…too nice most of the time. He just wanted to apologize for her and to you too, but he was afraid he'd scare you if he just showed up."

"Oh. It wasn't his fault that she behaved like an imbecile. What a nice guy and what's he doing with someone like her?"

"It's impossible to love and be wise."

"Who said that?" she asked.

"Francis Bacon. Anyway, I told him, I'll tell you, he was sorry."

Their waitress Sherri, returned with their drinks and took their orders.

* * *

As M.J looked around, she mused that it wasn't the worst idea to come out for pizza. The place was noisy, but in a good way and happy way. The Calamari turned out to be great, so that was a plus in her book.

"I hear you met Marcy," he said.

"I did?"

"At the bar last night. She was the bar tender."

"Oh. Is that Marcy? The sharp looking brunette with the sexy magenta streaks? I expected her to be older, sort of businesslike, sitting in a back office with ledgers."

"Marcy likes to keep her hand in. She liked you."

"That's flattering, since we talked over the bar, for about two minutes."

"She knows what she knows, as she likes to say."

"She mentioned her ex-husband used to be the groundskeeper, when my house was a B&B."

"Right, the stoner. He's long gone. But that reminds me, I could give you a hand with some of the heavy yard work. Dad said you didn't bother to hire a landscaper, at least not yet, but if you decide otherwise, you might want to talk to Noah."

"From the band?"

"Yes. His family runs the local nursery. He's actually pretty good, at the whole lawn-and-garden thing."

"Maybe I will. I wanted to deal with it myself, but so far, I've managed to hack away the worst, plant a couple of pots and some kitchen herbs."

"No landscaping in New York?"

"Not like this."

"We could barter some labor for the photo shoot."

"Okay, but let's see how the shoot goes."

"Why don't we swing by when we're finished and let you take a good look at the garage?"

It would definitely help if she did, plus, she had nowhere to be in a hurry. But, she felt the need to guard herself.

"I have to get back. I'm expecting a call." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth for some reason.

"Ten minutes won't hurt. It's basically on the way. If you take a look tonight, you'll get a sense of what you want."

She pondered his words for a beat. He seemed genuinely sincere, but she also knew it took nothing for him to make her into a flustered mess. No matter how tempting, she couldn't end up in Sam's bed.

"Alright, let's do that."

* * *

Half an hour later, they pulled up to his place and headed for the garage. Floodlights popped on as she followed him round the back.

Of course, night had fallen, so she couldn't judge the light, but she could get a sense of space, and a feel for what she'd have to work with, if she shot in their practice area.

She saw he had the bays locked and secured with some sort of keypad alarm, as well as motion lights.

"I hadn't thought about the security you'd need."

"Well, there are lots of tools, car parts and sometimes the band's equipment, here."

He opened the bay door and turned on the lights. It was a pretty good-sized space. It smelled of oil and the floor was stained with it. The thing that caught her eye, was a bright orange lift. The one you drive your car on, and have it hoisted, up in the air.

She walked around, slowly perusing the compressors, the grease guns, hydraulic jacks, rolly-boards, a couple of giant tool chests and other basic tools. It would work. She'd make it work.

"Where do you set up?" she asked.

"Pretty much like we do onstage. If the weather is good and we start early, we set up outside on the pad."

She allowed his words to sink in, processing them as she did so.

"Sounds good, but I want you guys inside, with those clashing colors and those big bulky tools. And, I'm going to want your motorcycle in here."

"For the shoot?"

"Yeah, I want to try something." She moved off, looking at parts and other things. As if a bright idea stuck her, she turned to him and said,

"Spare parts, an old engine, even a broken windshield would be great. Throw in a steering wheel, some tyres, with a few spiderwebs in the background, and we could have one hell of a photoshoot."

The excitement in her voice and on her face, fascinated Sam. This is the most animated he's seen her, since meeting her all of those months ago. He watched as she stepped back out of the bay, looked at the space and walked back in, studying it all the while. After a few minutes, she walked over to him and stood before him.

"I want a few wardrobe choices, things that you're all comfortable wearing. But like I said, not just black. Get some ball caps, bandannas, a cowboy hat and maybe a duster coat…leather. Definitely leather."

"Okay." She heard the doubt in his voice and smiled. She placed her hand on his toned arm and said to him.

"Trust me Sam, you're going to like the end result. This is a big garage, so the possibilities are endless. What's in the next bay?"

"The love of my life."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Do you want to see her?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

He went out and left the first bay opened, in case she wasn't done. He opened the next one and hit the light. Her surprised gasp rung familiar. He realized he'd heard her like that before. When he was inside of her.

"This is yours?"

"It is now."

"You have a '67 GTO convertible…in factory red…" He stood in reverent silence for a full ten seconds, marveling at the woman beside him.

"I think you have to marry me now. You're the first woman besides Marcy, who've seen her and knows what she is."

"It's beautiful." She moved closer, ghosting her fingertips lightly over the hood. "Absolutely pristine. Did you restore it?"

"More like maintained it. My grandfather bought her right off the showroom floor and treated her like a baby. The mechanic gene mostly skipped my father, so grandpa showed me the ropes. And when I turned twenty-one, he gave her to me."

M.J reached for the door and quickly pulled back, catching herself. Her eyes found his, and she asked,

"Can I?"

"Sure." She opened it and ran her hand lightly over the seat.

"It smells new. Great detailing…oh! It has a push-button radio."

"My dad talked about getting an eight-track put in…my grandfather nearly disinherited him."

"I like Dwight, but if I was your grandpa, I would have done the same. It's blasphemy. I think your grandpa would be pleased at how well you've kept it."

"He is."

"Oh, he's alive?"

"And well and living with my grandmother. They've been married close to fifty years and they live in Florida. How do you know about classic cars?"

"I only know some. I did a shoot, one of the first on my own and came across some, belonging to a friend of a friend."

She circled the car as she spoke. It really was perfect, in every way. And if Sam maintained it, she imagined it ran just as beautifully.

"Want to take a ride?"

"I really would, but I should be getting back."

He knew lust and he knew how to use it. He went in for the kill.

"How about this? We take a ride in it to your place. You leave your car here. I stay there. Tomorrow, we load your equipment in her, and come back, so you can do what you need to do."

Temptation.

Plain and simple.

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't sleep with him two nights in a row. It was the next thing to a commitment.

The car shone under the garage lights, luring her and Sam, he stood tall, handsome and sexy, finishing her off.

"I will agree to that, only if you put the top down."

"Deal."

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. Hope it made sense.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other stories. I appreciate every review, every follow, every fave and everyone who continues to read and wait for the next installment. You're the best.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession. It is the property of Nora Roberts.**

* * *

 _Fall came to New York, and with it concern and indecision._

 _M.J was beginning to re-think what she told Matt, about keeping her problems in front of her, as opposed to putting them behind her._

 _"Maybe Matt was right. I should put it, or try to put it behind me. But, it's a possibility that, the whole ugly business could rush up and nip at my heels, anytime it wanted," she mused._

 _Her thoughts drifted to the movie, so she decided right then and there, to set it aside. She didn't like the idea of keeping it in front of her anymore. She might trip over it, so setting it aside, seemed like a good compromise._

* * *

 _As of now, her mom got out of bed everyday, got dressed and went to work._

 _M.J kept busy with school, her yearbook and school paper assignments. Other than that, she was mostly considering which boy to have sex with, when the time came._

* * *

 _The debut date of the movie, rested heavy on her mind, from time to time, so she decided to speak to Burt about it._

 _"It's coming out in just a few short weeks."_

 _"Honey, I know. Carole and I had planned to speak to you about it."_

 _"Not mama?"_

 _"Yes, I'll talk with her. I hate having to. She's doing so well right now. I know that the movie doesn't change anything. Your lives are in New York now. That part of your life is over."_

 _"Not for her."_

 _Weeks later, M.J wasn't sure what Burt had said to her mother, but after a few dark days, she came out again. She took M.J shopping for a new dress, for homecoming and insisted on making a day of it. It was a rare occasion and M.J threw herself into it._

 _"Anything looks good on you honey. You might be short and curvy, but that doesn't matter. Get something in color."_

 _M.J picked a lovely black dress, that caught her eye the moment she spied it._

 _She turned from side to side, in the dressing room, checking out the front and back on the short black dress, with its cinched waist and square-necked bodice. It fitted her as if it was made for her._

 _She met her mom at the door, just as she opened it to get her opinion._

 _"I'll be taking pictures more than dancing. Black is better for that, more than any other color."_

 _"You ought to have a date. Why aren't you going with that nice boy? Matt?" her mom asked._

 _"I don't need a date to have a good time. Matt is nice…but, we're just friends."_

 _"So, you can go to homecoming…or anywhere with just a friend."_

 _"I don't want a date for homecoming mom, besides, I'm sure I'll see him there."_

 _"Well, when I was your age, having a date for homecoming was the most important thing in the world. So, maybe, you're smarter than I was. But, I just love the pink dress, with the sparkle on the skirt."_

 _"I'm not sure if I'm a sparkle-pink girl."_

 _"Every girl deserves some sparkle-pink. You want black, that's fine. Gosh, you're so grown-up, it takes my breath. But we're getting the pink too."_

 _"Mama, you can't buy both."_

 _"I can and I will. You can wear the black since you'll be taking pictures and save the pink for something special. I haven't given you enough special in your life."_

 _"Sure, you have."_

 _"Not nearly enough, but I'm going to change that. We're going to buy those dresses and have a fancy lunch. Then, we're going to hunt the perfect accessories."_

* * *

 _M.J laughed, happy to see some sparkle, not on the dress, but in her mother's eyes._

 _"My camera's my accessory mom," she threw in._

 _"Not this time. We're going to find the right things, shoes, bag and earrings. I know you wanted to go shopping with your girlfriends today, but…"_

 _"Mama, I love doing this with you."_

 _"It all went so fast. I see that now. It seemed so slow…and some days…and nights…lasted forever. But I can see now, looking at you, so grown-up, how fast it all went. I was absent from you…"_

* * *

 _Panic gripped M.J._

 _The sparkle in her mom's eyes begun to die out. She dropped her purchases and embraced her mother, rocking her from side to side._

 _"You always were, mama."_

 _"No, I wasn't. But…I'm really gonna try to be. I…I'm…so sorry about the movie."_

 _"It doesn't matter. Don't worry."_

 _"I love you so much."_

 _"I love you back, mama."_

 _"I'm going to take the pink dress out to the saleslady, and have her get started. You go on and change, then, we'll have some lunch."_

* * *

 _They bought the dresses, shoes, earrings and a pretty bag that sparkled, making her mother smile again. At M.J's urging, Mrs. Jones bought herself a purple sweater and suede boots._

 _They came home flushed and exhausted, but managed to model everything over again._

* * *

 _October turned brisk and the light M.J loved best, slanted gold over the trees in the parks._

 _To please her mother, she wore the pink dress instead of the black, to homecoming. And though it wasn't a date, she asked Matt, to pick her up._

 _The glimmer of tears in her mom's eyes, from joy instead of sorrow, when she and Matt dutifully posed for pictures, brought overwhelming peace to her._

 _On Halloween, Nancy Jones dressed up as Superwoman, to hand out candy to ghosts, goblins, princesses and Jedi Knights. It was the first time she had ever dressed up for a holiday. It was as if she had turned a corner and was really moving forward._

* * *

 _The third week of January, M.J went home during lunch. Matt came with her._

 _"You didn't have to come," she said, fishing out her keys from her pants pocket._

 _"Hey, any excuse to get out of school, even if it's just for half-an-hour. I'm game."_

 _Matt was a senior. He was tall, with light-brown skin, and handsome. But to M.J, he was a good editor and a good friend. He also wrote really well._

 _He'd done her a favor by going with her to homecoming, which for him, was a dream come true. She knew he had a crush on her, she wasn't oblivious, but she never encouraged anything more than friendship._

 _She allowed him to 'take charge' so to speak, at homecoming, and he'd put what she called, half-assed, clumsy moves on her that night. But to sum it up, he really hadn't pushed anything, seeing as she wasn't interested. As a result, they got along fine._

 _She allowed him to come in, as she turned to the alarm pad, to key in the code._

 _"I'll go up and get my camera bag…which I'd have with me, if you'd told me you wanted shots of the drama club rehearsing." He grinned at her._

 _"Maybe I forgot, so we could get out of school for thirty minutes. Can I get something to drink? Maybe Coke, if you have it?"_

 _"Sure, we always have Cokes. The kitchen is that way," she pointed out to him._

 _"Thanks. This house is really cool. You want one while I'm at it?"_

 _"Sure. Grab two." She moved to head up the stairs, when he called out again._

 _"Any chips?" She rolled her eyes and plucked the cap off her head._

 _"Probably. Get whatever. I won't be long."_

 _"Take your time, we've got…twenty-five minutes left on our pass. Hey, Is this yours?"_

 _He'd walked up to a black-and-white photo study, of an old man dozing on a park bench, with a floppy eared mutt, curled up beside him._

 _"Yeah. I gave it to my mom a couple weeks ago. I think she really liked it."_

 _"Excellent work M.J."_

 _"Thank you Matt."_

* * *

 _She turned and went up the stairs._

 _An eerie feeling erupted within her, as she neared her mother's room. Something was off. She felt something flutter and drop in her belly. Had the good stretch come to a dip?_

 _"I wonder if mama is home?"_

 _In her mind, she knew her mother should be at work. There was a party of twenty-five coming in for a retirement lunch, so all hands would be on deck…her mama said so._

 _She eased the door open, and saw that the curtains had been drawn closed. A bad sign._

 _In the dim light, she found her mother's silhouette, lying on top of the bed. "Mama."_

 _She moved towards the bed, noting that her mother was wearing the purple sweater, they'd bought on their shopping spree, rather than her white work shirt and black vest. Her mother was laying so still._

 _"Mama," she called out again, as she switched on the bedside lamp._

 _Nancy Jones was so still. So pale. And her eyes weren't quite closed._

 _"Mama. Mama." M.J gripped her mother's shoulder and shook. Next she snatched her hand up and found it cold._

 _"Mama! Wake up. Wake up!" she cried._

 _Her eyes traveled to the spot beside the lamp, where her mother always kept her pills. The pills were there…no…a second look told her different. The bottle was empty._

 _Extreme panic set in._

 _But M.J wasn't about to give up. Gripping her mother's hands, she pulled, as she yelled, "Wake up!"_

 _Nancy Jones' head lolled and fell forwards._

 _"Stop it. Stop it," M.J shouted. She tried to get her arms around her mom's body, to pull her off the bed._

 _"I know. On her feet. I'll get her on her feet. To make her walk," she said to herself. Just then, Matt appeared at the bedroom door._

 _"Hey M.J, what's up? Why are you shouting? You need to chill…what…?"_

 _"Call an ambulance. Call nine-one-one. Hurry. Hurry, please."_

 _Matt stood frozen for a moment, staring at Mrs. Jones' limp body, as it fell back on the bed, her eyelids opened like shades, to show the staring eyes behind them._

 _"Is that your mom?"_

 _"Call nine-one-one," M.J shouted. She laid her ear next to her mother's heart, hearing nothing. She pressed on her chest, also, seeing nothing._

 _"She's not breathing. Tell them to hurry. Tell them she took Cymbalta…overdosed on Cymbalta."_

 _Still staring, Matt fumbled for his phone, and punched in 911, whilst M.J did CPR._

 _"Yeah, yeah. We need an ambulance. Jones, I don't know the address."_

 _M.J called it out for him, as tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with sweat. In the background, Matt was saying to the operator,_

 _"Cymbalta, she overdosed on Cymbalta."_

* * *

 _Tuning out her friend, she continued to work on her mother's prostrate body, giving it everything she had._

 _"Mama, mama, please!" she pleaded._

 _"No, she's not awake, she's not moving. Her daughter's doing CPR. I..I..I don't know. Maybe, um, forty." M.J's shout of,_

 _"She's thirty-seven," startled him. He repeated it for the operator. A few seconds later, he dropped beside her, hesitated, patted her shoulder and said,_

 _"They're coming."_

 _He swallowed hard, moistened his lips, then touched his fingers to Mrs. Jones' hand. It felt…soft and cold. Soft like, he could push his fingers through it. Cold like, it had lain outside in the winter air. A shiver ran through his lanky body, panic and fear gripped him._

 _"Oh God! Oh Jeez! M.J. Oh man…she's cold. I think…I think she's dead," he said, with one hand on Mrs. Jones and one on M.J's shoulder._

 _M.J knew it, but she refused to believe it. "No, no, no, no."_

 _She placed her mouth to her mom's, blowing in a breath, willing her to breathe back. But there was nothing there. Like the pictures of the women, in her father's cellar, there was nothing left in the eyes, but death._

 _She sat back. She didn't weep. Not yet. She smoothed back her mother's hair. There was no weight pressing on her chest, no churning in her belly. There was, as in her mom's eyes, nothing._

 _She remembered the feeling, the same as when she'd swum through the air, towards the sheriff's office, that hot summer dawn. She was in shock. And her mother was dead._

 _She heard the doorbell, and slowly got to her feet._

 _"I need to go and let them in. Don't leave her alone."_

 _"Okay…um…okay."_

 _She walked out, as if she was sleepwalking, in Matt's eyes. He looked back at the dead woman. They wouldn't make it back to school in thirty minutes._

* * *

There had been a time that Sam had been more apt, to fall into bed at five in the morning, than stumble out of it.

But when part of the reward for early rising, equaled pancakes, not from a box like he's made, he could see the benefits. The biggest benefit sat beside him, on an old glider, smelling of summer, while the stars went out.

"So…those are the chairs and the table for out here?"

"They will be." Sam studied the old spring chairs, even in the dark, he could see the rust.

"Why?"

"I'm going for a theme here and they were a bargain. And…because I have vision. I also dropped off a chest-of-drawers at your mom's. The store is holding a couple more pieces I want her to look at."

"He must love you. The store owner, I mean."

"I'm going to pay for this patio furniture, and more, with the pictures I took over there, yesterday. I got one of his barn. Gosh! The light was perfect, and the clouds, just a roll of grey. I managed to talk him into standing in the open barn doors, in those overalls he wears, leaning on a pitchfork. He grumbled about it, but he liked doing it…and he signed a release, in exchange for a print. It was a good deal all around. Then I…Wait!"

She jumped up and ran inside, leaving Sam to look at the spot she had been sitting in. He shrugged and went back to his delicious pancakes, as the first light broke at the edge of the world.

* * *

A few minutes later, she came back with her camera and bag.

"Stand over by the rail," she ordered.

"What? No. I'm eating. It's too dark for pictures anyway."

"Do I tell you how to overhaul an engine? Come on, be a pal. Stand by the rail, with your coffee mug. I don't want to miss the light."

Somehow, hearing her say the word pal, rubbed him the wrong way, but now wasn't the time to get into it. He filed it away in his head for future reference.

"There isn't any light," he grumbled, but grudgingly rose and went to the rail.

"Just drink your coffee and watch the sunrise. Pay no attention to me. Just look out…no…turn a little more to your right…and lose the scowl. It's morning, you've got coffee, and you just rolled out of bed, after spending the night with a beautiful woman."

"Well, that's all true."

"Feel it then, if only a little, that's all. And watch the sun come up."

It was a little strange to Sam, doing what she asked, whilst she moved around him with a camera. But he could do it, he supposed, if it would make her happy.

* * *

It was a hell of a show.

Those first trickles of light, the promise of them, the slow blur of red hitting the water, the shimmer of gold rising up, edging the clouds, everything. He was enjoying it. Plus, she made damn good coffee in that fancy machine of hers.

He'd just ignore the way she muttered to herself, as she pawed through her bag, looking for something or the other.

* * *

In M.J's mind, it was perfect. He was perfect. Hardly more than a silhouette, a tall, barefoot, sexy man, with his mug of coffee, watching the new day, whisper over the water.

Long legs, long arms, big hands, white coffee mug, dark stubble on a handsome profile, at the break of dawn, she couldn't ask for better.

"Great. Thank you, Sam. I'm done." He glanced back, and she couldn't resist one more. "Now I'm done."

"Okay."

He went back to where he was sitting and to his pancakes. She joined him, ignoring her own plate, to view the shots she'd just taken.

He held out his hand and said, "Let's see."

She didn't give him the camera, only scooted closer. She proceeded to angle the screen and scroll through.

Sam didn't know how she got so much out of the lack of light, how'd she tossed him into relief, make him look so moody and content at the same time, whilst capturing every shade of sunrise. But she did.

"You're good."

"Yes, I am. I'll print out a release."

"What are you going to do with them?" Still scrolling, she stopped on one, and did something that zoomed in on his profile.

"I need to take a closer look at them on my computer and pick out the one I think is best for a sexy, moody gallery print, I have in mind. Then, I'll work on it, pick another, probably the one where you started to turn, to look back at me, with the sunrise behind you, for a stock print. You're going to end up on a book cover."

"What?"

"I know what sells there. And one of these days, you can add yourself to your collection. This was a good and unexpected morning's work."

She leaned over and kissed him, something she'd never done before, stifling his instincts to object.

"Are you going to start on that this morning?"

"That, and some other work."

"Okay, I'll get going on the yard."

"The yard?" Distracted, she looked over at him. "My yard?"

"No, I thought I'd just drive around until I found one that appealed to me and dig in. Yes, your yard."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm up and I like yard work."

"Says the man without a yard."

"Okay, you got me there, that's the downside." He finished off his pancakes, with a satisfied look on his handsome face. "But I give my mom and dad a hand, every now and then. And Marcy too. Where are your tools?"

"I have a shovel, a fan rake and a little set of tools…you know…a little spade, clippers and the fork thing."

He sat for a moment, looking at her, with wonder in his eyes.

"And you expect to deal with that yard, with a shovel and a rake?"

"So far, I have. What else?"

"You need loppers, a wheelbarrow, empty buckets, a pickaxe, shears and you'll need both a garden rake and a fan rake."

"I need to make a list."

"Until then, I'll see what I can do, with what you have and take it from there."

* * *

After breakfast, they both headed off to do separate things.

Since M.J had planned on a full morning's work, she settled down at her temporary station.

Sam could play in the yard, she thought, though she imagined he'd get tired and bored, with the sheer grunt work of it and come back in, nudging at her, to knock off. He'd want to have sex, take a ride, or do something she didn't have on her morning's agenda.

That was the problem with having someone around. They often wanted to do something, you didn't have time for.

* * *

She took care of some basics first, some bread-and-butter shots. Pleased with the barn studies, she uploaded them, before working on the one she'd chosen for the store owner.

But the pictures she'd just taken, tugged at her. So, she decided to shuffle back the other work, she'd intended to finish and studied them, frame by frame, on the big screen.

She started with the last shot, the lucky, impulse shot, where he'd been half turned towards her, with a lopsided smile, good and cocky, on his face.

God, he was gorgeous. Not slick and polished. It was all raw and rough, more so with that morning stubble and his un-groomed hair.

She worked on the background first, burning in the clouds, for a little more drama.

Yeah, big drama for the backdrop. A hot, sexy guy, half turned, looking over his shoulder at a lover. As a stock photo, it would sell, for years. In the short term, she calculated she'd sell dozens in less than a week. For fun and mystery, she titled it 'Mister S'.

It was indeed an excellent morning's work. She fussed with it some more. She wanted to emphasize the moment, where everything stilled, between night and day, showing the first hints of light. And the man, hardly more than a shadow, leaning against the rail.

She continued to work at it, bringing out his eyes more, so that the green played hot.

"I'm definitely doing a second one of this, maybe black-and-white, with color pops. Yes! With his eyes boldly green and the growing light, boldly red…and the white mug," she excitedly said to herself.

After a while, she sat back and looked at the finished product. A smile blossomed on her face. She was happy.

"They're good. Very good," she murmured, as she sent both to the manager of the gallery for preview. After that, she sat back and studied them again.

"Really good," she said once again and stood from her chair.

* * *

She went down and opened the door, looking for Sam. She saw him, stripped to the waist, his torso gleaming with sweat, throwing a stick, rather, what looked like a whole branch, into the wheelbarrow. More sticks, and more debris filled the wheelbarrow.

A large area of lawn, sat patchy, bumpy and clear of weeds. The tangling brush and thorny vines, which seemed to grow a foot every night, were gone.

She spotted a pile of rocks, a chainsaw, an axe, a pickaxe, drywall buckets and plastic tarps with piles of leaves and pine needles centered on them.

"Holy crap!" she shouted, catching Sam's attention.

"Hi. We got a good start here."

"A start? Where did all of this come from?"

"The yard trash came from the trashy yard. The tools? I rode into town, stopped by the garden center and the hardware store, and stocked up. There's half of a cold-cut sub in the fridge, if you want it. I got hungry."

M.J marveled at him. Everything he did, seemed so natural. It was hard to look past that feature. She walked slowly down the steps and stepped onto the grass, pathetic grass, but that would change.

"I never expected you to do all of this."

"I had fun doing it. If I were you, I'd get rid of those foundation bushes." He pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket, and wiped the sweat off his face. "Noah will rip them out for you, or, tell you if they're worth saving."

"You bought a chainsaw?"

"No, that's mine. You shouldn't need one after today, now that things are more under control."

"Sam, how long…what time is it?" She dug for her phone to check, and realized she didn't have it. Sam pulled his out.

"It's about one."

"In the afternoon?"

"It ain't morning baby." Laughing, he kissed her and asked, "Where do you go when you work?"

"Nowhere. I just never expected you to…you were working for hours. Thank you, so much."

"It's just yard work, but you're welcome. I need to get cleaned up, so we can get going…if you still want those book pictures."

"Yes, I do…and yes, you do. You're all sweaty." Stepping closer, she trailed a finger down his bare chest, sending tingles all through his body. "And dirty. You look…hot and thirsty."

Since the look in her eyes invited it, he hauled her against him. With a naughty look on his face, he said,

"Now you're sweaty and dirty too."

"Then, I guess we both need a shower."

* * *

Sam took her under the shower, with the water running hard and his soap-slicked hands, gripping her.

Both were eager.

Her mouth met his, allowing him to swallow her gasps and moans, as he took her to another place.

He pinned her against the wall and drove into her. He could feel her fingers diving into his hair, catching it and holding it. Her eyes clung to his, holding them in a heated gaze.

Their lips were so close, their breaths became tangled, and the brown in her eyes turned almost black as she lost herself in the moment. Her soft cry of his name, spurred him on, to drive harder and faster, into her willing body.

He'd wanted her to say it. It took him higher when she did, and it also brought him closer to impending ecstasy. But he held back, denying himself of a quick release.

He slowed his rhythm, until her head lolled back, and her walls begun to clench him, like a vise. She was near and he was so ready to take her there.

M.J on the other hand, could feel nothing but pure pleasure, so ripe and so full, she could burst. The feeling started from the tip of her toes, spreading throughout her body, and engulfing her like warm wet velvet.

The tiles were cool on her back, but his body was hot, pressed to hers and inside of hers. The air was so thick, that breathing it in, and letting it go, came in the form of a moan.

She tried to hold on, she really did, to give back some of what she was feeling, but she felt as soft and as pliable, as wax in blistering sunlight. His lips toyed with hers, conquering by torment, rather than by force.

She called his name again, as her eyes closed in pleasure.

"No, way baby. Look at me. Open your eyes and see me, M.J"

"I see you. Yes! God!"

"A little more. Until there's nothing left. I'm going to take more."

"Yes, Sam…take it…please…"

He took more, and kept them both swaying on that high wire, between need and sweet release, until it built beyond its bearing and he let the wire snap, beneath the weight.

Their simultaneous cries bounced off the shower walls, leaving both thoroughly spent, as they dropped to the floor under the still running water.

* * *

 **We're moving along. I hope this was good enough. Much love to you.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other stories. I appreciate every view, every review, every fave, every follow and everyone of you, who continue to read and wait for the next update. Sometimes it can be challenging, like now, I've lost my aunt. I feel awful because, I kept saying I was going to visit her and I never did. Not because I didn't care to, but, I have a lot of commitments and I sometimes get caught up. If you have the chance to check up on someone, even if it's just to say hi, do it. Seize the moment, because, when it's gone, it's gone.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession.**

* * *

 _On one if the saddest days of her life, M.J wore the black dress she'd fancied, to her mother's funeral._

 _She'd never been to one before, though this was more of a memorial. There would be no burial. Her mom would be cremated. And in the spring, they'd rent a boat and send her ashes to the air and sea._

 _The Hummels and her three best friends rallied around her, every step of the way. She was never quite alone and she valued each and everyone of them._

* * *

 _There were tears, of course, but for M.J, they came from a place of rage, as much as grief._

 _The day she found her mother, she knew she had to talk to the police. For the second time in her life, the police came to her home, went through it and asked questions._

 _"I'm Detective Fabray. I'm sorry for your loss. I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you some questions. Can I come in and talk to you?"_

 _M.J knew, that some cops on TV and in the movies were female and pretty, but she'd always assumed that was mostly due to make-up. But Fabray looked like she could play a detective on TV._

 _"Okay." She went to her room, because she didn't know what else to do. Det. Fabray followed and sat on one side of the bed, facing her._

 _"Can you tell me why you came home today? Why you and your friend weren't in school?"_

 _"We got a pass to come home, to get my camera and equipment. We work on the school's newspaper. I'm supposed to take pictures of rehearsal, for the drama club. Is he still here? Matt…is he here?"_

 _"My partner already talked to him. We had him taken back to school."_

 _"He'll tell everybody". M.J pressed her face in her hands. "He'll tell everybody about my mother."_

 _"I'm sorry M.J. Can you tell me what happened when you got home?"_

 _"Matt wanted a Coke, so I told him, to get a couple of them, while I went up for my camera and equipment. Her door was closed…and I opened it. I thought…I thought she was sleeping…or not feeling well. I couldn't wake her up and I saw the pill bottle…empty. Matt came upstairs and I told him to call nine-one-one. I tried CPR. We took a class and I knew how. I tried, but I couldn't make her breathe."_

 _"Was she on the bed when you came in?"_

 _"Yes. I tried to get her up, to wake her up enough to walk. Before, if she'd taken too many pills, I could make her walk and get her to the hospital."_

 _"She's done this before?" M.J just nodded, with her face pressed in her hands. "When last did you see her, before you came home from school?"_

 _"This morning. I fixed breakfast, but she didn't come down for it. I went upstairs and she was just getting up. She seemed fine. She said she had to run some errands, before she went to work, and she'd get breakfast later. She said, 'Have a good day at school,' and I was, until I came home..." She looked up then, locking eyes with the Det._

 _"Do you know who my father is?"_

 _"Yes, M.J, I do. And I know that, for the second time in your life, you've had to face something no one should ever have to."_

 _"Will everyone know? Even though we've changed our names. Will everyone know?"_

 _"We're going to do the best we can, to keep that out of the press." Det. Fabray waited a moment. "Do you know how often your mother and your father communicated?"_

 _"She wrote to him and went to see him a few times, since we moved to New York. She pretended she wasn't, but she was. She talked to the movie people because,_ _ **he**_ _wanted her to. She'd been trying really hard and for a couple of months or more, she'd been doing good. She was happier than she'd ever been. I don't think she's been that happy, since that night I found…."_

 _"It's alright M.J. You don't have to recount any details for me. Is there anyone you want us to contact for you?"_

 _Immediately, M.J's thoughts turned to the Hummels and her three best friends._

 _"Can you call uncle Burt and auntie Carole Hummel?"_

 _"I sure can."_

 _"You asked me about them communicating. Did my mother talk to_ _ **him**_ _today? This morning?"_

 _"I don't believe your mother and father spoke today."_

 _"But there's something. **He** wrote something to her, didn't **he**? Something that had her coming home, after she'd been doing so well and taking those pills."_

 _"We're asking questions, so we can give you answers," Det. Fabray said, as she rose._

 _"I didn't see a note in her room. I wasn't looking. I was trying to…but she had to say goodbye." A sob wanted to rip its way out of her chest. "However sad she was, she loved me. She did. She'd say goodbye."_

* * *

 _Det. Fabray was floored._

 _This sixteen-year-old girl in front of her, had to be one in a million. From the tender age of ten, she'd seen things her young eyes shouldn't have. She's been to hell and back and has faced it all with a strength rarely seen in anyone, whether young or old._

 _In her heart, she prayed that from here on, only good things…happy things, would befall her._

 _"I'm sure she loved you. You're so wise M.J and you knew your mother well. She left a note, addressed to you and the Hummels. It was in your room. She put it on the dresser."_

 _"I want to see it. I have a right to read it. It was addressed to me. I need to read what she wrote, before she took those pills and left me."_

 _"Okay. I'll get it."_

 _Detective Fabray exited the room, leaving M.J to her thoughts._

 _M.J stood up when she returned. She wasn't going to read the last thing her mom wrote, sitting, she would be on her feet._

 _"You'll have to read it through the evidence bag. It still needs to be processed."_

 _"It doesn't matter."_

 _M.J took the bag, stepped to the window and read the note, in the thin winter light._

* * *

 _It read:_

 _ **I'm so sorry. I made many mistakes, so many bad choices, told so many lies.**_

 _ **I told lies to the people who deserved the truth. I told them because 'he' said I should. No matter how many times I tried to break free, I just couldn't.**_

 _ **Now, after all of the mistakes I made, and all of the hurt I caused, 'he' has broken free, and said, I should too.**_

 _ **'He's' divorcing me, so 'he' can try to marry some other woman. One who's been writing 'him' and going to see 'him' for more than two years.**_

 _ **'He' sent me papers from a lawyer, for a divorce and a letter, that said, cruel, awful things. But some of those things are true. I am weak and stupid. I am useless. I didn't protect my daughter when I had the chance.**_

 _ **Burt, you did that. You and Carole both and you helped me to get a home. I know you'll look after M.J and do right by her, as I never have.**_

 _ **M.J, you're so smart and brave and beautiful. You made me proud every day. I wished I were more like you. I'm not strong and brave like you. It's so hard, to try to be.**_

 _ **I'm so tired, honey. I just want to go to sleep.**_

 _ **Look after yourself. You'll have a better life now. One day you'll find the truth in that. I hope that one day, you'll understand why mama had to go away.**_

 _ **One day you'll forgive me.**_

* * *

" _Why should I forgive her? She left me because 'he' didn't want her anymore? She came home and took all of those pills because she was tired?"_

 _"M.J…"_

 _"No, no! Don't make excuses. You're the police. You didn't know her, you don't know me or any of us. But you know what this is?"_

 _She threw the bag on her bed and fisted her hands, as though she could fight something or someone._

 _"It's what a coward does. 'He' killed her, just like 'he' killed all of those other women. But they didn't have a choice. She did. She let it happen. She let 'him' kill her, when we were all right here."_

 _"You're right. I think you're right. But there are other means of torture, besides physical. I can't tell you how to feel, but I can tell you, I think you have a right to be angry. You have a right to be mad as hell. When some of the mad wears off, I hope you'll talk to someone."_

 _"Another therapist? I'm done with that. Done. A lot if good it did her."_

 _"You're not your mother. But if you don't want to talk to a therapist, a friend, to a priest, or your uncle Burt…" She took a card from her pocket and held it out to M.J._

 _"You can talk to me."_

 _"You're the second cop who's given me a card and said that."_

 _"Did you talk to that other cop?"_

 _"We moved away."_

 _"Well." Det. Fabray set the card on her dresser. She walked over, picked up the evidence bag and said, "Cops are good listeners. Detective Quinn Fabray. Anytime."_

* * *

 _So, three days later, M.J was clad in the black dress, with her now long hair, styled the way her mother liked it best, long, with waves in it. She didn't allow an angry word to escape her lips. She kept them all on the inside, where they crawled through her, like fiery ants._

 _No one spoke of Marcus Jones and everyone who worked at the restaurant came. Some of M.J's teachers came, also, some of her friends and their parents, who brought some of their friends, even if they could only stay for a short time._

 _Matt was there and Detective Fabray came._

 _"I didn't know the police came to funerals like this."_

 _"I wanted to pay my respects and to see how you were doing."_

 _"I'm alright. It's hard. I think uncle Burt and aunt Carole are taking it pretty hard. They thought they could save her. They tried very hard too. They worked hard to pull this together, to make it look nice…to make it that celebration of life, people talk about. But she didn't have much of a life to celebrate."_

 _"I think you're wrong. She had you, and that's a celebration."_

 _"That's a nice thing to say."_

 _"It's a true thing. Did you take that picture?" M.J glanced at the photo of her mother, dancing that funky jig, over the past summer._

 _"How did you know?" Det. Fabray smiled._

 _"I'm the police. It's a happy moment and you knew how to capture it. But that one is my favorite," she said, pointing to another photo, clearly taken with a timer._

 _Her mom and her were standing, arms around each other, with a tall floor vase full of pink roses, because her mom favored that color, in front of them._

 _"You can see that she was proud of you."_

 _"Is that what you see?"_

 _"Yes. Cops are not only good listeners, they are trained observers. She was proud. Hold onto that. I have to get back to work."_

 _"Thank you for coming."_

* * *

 _She turned away, and surprised masked her features, at seeing the top jock at her school, there. He was tall, great looking, with big blue eyes and dark blonde hair._

 _"Hey," he said, as he walked up to her._

 _"Hey."_

 _"I'm really sorry about your mom."_

 _"Thanks. It's nice you came."_

 _"My mom died when I was a baby."_

 _"But…I've met your mom."_

 _"She's not my real mom. My dad married her when I was three."_

 _"I didn't know. I'm sorry."_

 _"Yeah, well, it's hard, you know and I wanted to say I'm sorry."_

 _Touched, she stepped closer and hugged him, realizing her mistake, when he hugged her back, with his hand sliding down to her butt. She pulled back, with annoyance written all over her face._

 _"It's my mother's memorial."_

 _"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just thought…" He shrugged, managed a half laugh and said, "Whatever."_

 _M.J wanted to slap some respect into him, instead, she cordially said,_

 _"Thank you for coming. You can get a soft drink at the bar, if you want."_

 _"Yeah, maybe. See you around."_

* * *

 _Alone M.J turned, hoping to sneak into the storeroom, for a little peace and quiet, before anyone noticed she wasn't there. But she nearly walked into Matt._

 _"Hey. It seems weird, because I was…there…but I thought I should come and say…whatever."_

 _"Let's go sit somewhere quiet. People won't bug me if I'm sitting down with somebody."_

 _"I saw some of the guys from school, but I kind of hung back until they went off. It's weird, like I said. People want to know…you know…what it's like…but they don't want to ask you. Plus, you haven't been back to school. Are you coming back?"_

 _"Yeah, next week."_

 _"It'll be weird." She gave a half laugh. Sometimes he wrote better than he spoke._

 _"I need to keep my grades up and think about getting into college."_

 _"I'm heading to Columbia next fall."_

 _"You got in?"_

 _"It looks good for it. I have a couple of backups, but everything looks good. I'm going to study journalism."_

 _"You'll be good at it."_

 _"Yeah. So…I heard a couple of cops talking…you know that they had to take my statement and all, right? So I heard a couple of them talking…about Jones…about your mother being the wife of Marcus Tyrone Jones."_

 _M.J's heart did a somersault in her chest. She clutched her hands together, tightly in her lap and said nothing._

 _"I knew the name, remember…I told you, after what happened at the movies…and you know, I'm always researching things… You're that Mercedes."_

 _"Does everyone know?"_

 _"Not sure. Like I said, I hear the cops talking, and I knew who they were talking about…I read the book…."_

 _"Jones is my legal name, but…"_

 _"I get that. Look, I didn't say anything to anybody."_

 _"Don't. I just want to finish school."_

 _"I won't. But other people can do research, especially now that the movie's such a big hit. A lot of kids who don't read, go to the movies. What are you going to do?"_

 _I'm going to finish school and I'm going to go to college."_

 _"That's great. I give you my word M.J, I won't tell anybody. This is between you and me, okay?"_

 _"Okay," she said, with a small smile on her face._

* * *

M.J felt as light as air, and maybe, a little drunk, from the intimate activities she and Sam took part in a short while ago.

She took great care in packing her equipment, going over everything twice, to make sure she had all that she needed.

Her thoughts drifted to Sam and her body involuntary shook, as she remembered, every detail of what took place in the shower.

He'd taken her way beyond her boundaries of control and somehow, she'd allow it. She'd need time and space to decide and understand, what that meant. Now wasn't the time. Not when everything in her felt soft and vulnerable…when she could still feel his hands on her.

* * *

He walked in smelling like her soap, and looking like a tall, cool drink of water, to a thirsty traveler. Again, with the shiver. She cursed her traitorous body, in her overactive mind.

"All of that?" he asked.

"Better to have everything, than to leave behind the one thing you really need."

She picked up her backpack, with the intention of swinging it on her back, when he grabbed it and said,

"I got it. Christ, does this thing have bricks in it?"

He picked up the tripod case, the light stand and started out. M.J in turn, picked up the rest of the things and followed him out.

* * *

"Car's coming," Sam called back. "I got it."

"He's got it," she murmured. "That's the problem. Why am I mostly okay that he's got it?"

Sam opened the door, recognizing the official vehicle, just pulling up beside his truck and the chief of police behind the wheel.

He stepped off the porch and carted the equipment to his truck.

"Hey, Chief."

"Sam. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. How are things looking your side?"

"Not too bad. Same old, same old."

Chief Michaels, was a toughly built man, with a smooth face, the color of walnuts. He always wore a Waves cap, the high school football team, where his son is the quarterback, on his close-cropped hair. He was a good guy and very down-to-earth.

M.J appeared, surprised to see a police vehicle in front of her home. The sight of it sent off warning bells, about a past, she has tried long and hard to bury.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure about that. I've been meaning to come up and introduce myself. It's good that someone is back on the bluff, and from what I hear…and what I can see for myself, you've given the old girl a much-needed face-lift. She needed one. Heard you had Dwight and his crew. You couldn't do any better than them."

"Yes. I'm extremely pleased with the end result. Dwight and the guys did wonders and I'm forever in their debt."

"Looks like I caught you two on your way out."

"M.J's going to take some pictures of the band."

"Is that so?" Sam hooked his thumbs in his thick leather belt and gave a little nod. "I bet they'll be good ones. I don't want to keep you, but it's just my luck, that I find you both here. It's about Mindy Roth."

"If she's trying to push an assault charge at me, I'll push back," M.J stated.

"I can't say if she'd go there. We can't seem to find her."

"Still?" Sam threw in, as he turned back from stowing the equipment.

"Nobody's seen or heard from her, since Friday night…not long after your scuffle with her, Ms. M.J."

"If she's still pissed off about that, she could've taken off for a few days," Sam begun. The chief gave the bill of his hat a little flick and said,

"Her car's at her house and she hasn't. Sean finally broke in the back door this morning. And she didn't go in to work yesterday, neither is she answering her phone. She could be in a snit and most likely she is, but Sean's worried sick and I need to look into it. Now the story I'm getting, is, she went at you at Marcy's on Friday night."

 _Missing_ didn't mean anything, M.J assured herself. _Missing_ didn't mean an old root cellar, in the deep woods. More often, much more often, it just meant a person had gone somewhere, no one had yet looked.

"Ms. M.J?" the chief prompted.

"Sorry, yes. That's right. She knocked into me a couple of times, and then shoved me a couple of times."

"And you clocked her one?"

"No, I didn't hit her. I took her wrist and gave it a twist, on the pressure point, for leverage and she went down. And she stopped shoving me."

"Then what?"

"Then I left. It was annoying and embarrassing, so I came home."

"By yourself?"

"Yes, I came home alone."

"About what time do you think that was?"

"About ten thirty."

" _He's just doing his job,"_ M.J thought to herself. "I was angry and upset and I couldn't concentrate on anything, not even the work I attempted to do that night."

"And I got here about twelve thirty." Sam said.

Although he was leaning negligently on the back of his truck, he was fully engrossed in the conversation between the two. Irritation edged his voice, when he spoke.

"We got up just after five and I left about seven thirty, maybe a little before. Come on, Chief."

"Sam, I've got to ask. Suzy's been screaming about Ms. M.J attacking Mindy…she's the only one saying that," he added before Sam could respond. He continued. "And even she's backed off saying that. But the fact is, Mindy stormed out of Marcy's in a temper, about twenty minutes after Ms. M.J, and so far, as I can determine, that's the last anyone saw of her. Did either if the two of you see her with anyone? Someone she might've taken it into her head to go off with?"

"She was sitting with Suzy. I try not to notice Mindy too much," Sam said.

"I saw her at her table, with her friend, earlier in the evening." Tense now, M.J rubbed the back of her neck. She went on. "I was sitting with Dwight and Mary. I wasn't really paying attention to her, until Mary and I got up to dance. She…I don't even know her."

"I understand that, I do and I don't want you to worry about this. She probably went off with somebody she met at the bar…to lick her wounds and get Sean worked up." M.J shook her head.

"A woman who's pissed off and upset? She's going to talk to her girlfriend."

"They had a bit of falling out after the incident."

"Regardless, most likely, she'd called this Suzy to argue, or at least send her a bitchy text."

"We'll be looking into it. I'm not going to keep you, but I'd like to come back some time, and see what you've done on the inside."

"Sure."

"You have a good day. I'll be seeing you around Sam."

* * *

M.J's insides twisted into a knot as the police chief got back into his cruiser.

"Will he really look?"

"Yeah. He's the chief."

"Has anyone else ever gone missing?" Right at that moment, Sam could tell what was going through her mind. _Her father and the abominable things he did._

"Not that I know of. Hey," he put a hand on her arm and continued. "Mindy's the type who looks for trouble and likes to cause it. It's just the way she is. The chief will do his job. Don't worry about this."

He was right, of course. Mindy was a troublemaker and had very much likely hooked up, with some guy for the weekend, to boost her wounded ego. Not every woman who went off that way ended up raped and murdered.

It had never happened here before, M.J's thoughts screamed at her. After she'd fallen for the house, she'd checked into that and found the place to have a low crime-rate and an even lower violet crime-rate. This was a safe place. A quiet place.

Mindy would probably show up before nightfall, pleased she'd worried her ex-husband, her friend Suzy and had the police out looking for her.

At that, M.J put it out of her mind, as much as she could. She boarded the truck and Sam drove away from the house, heading for his place, to do the photo-shoot.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. I hope it made sense. Much love to you.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Once again, thank you for your continued support, fo this and my other stories.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

 _Burt and Carole were never officially listed as M.J's legal guardians, in case something happened to her mother, so an independent M.J used that as leverage, to make her plea, to stay in New York and finish out school._

 _She grudgingly agreed to let one of her girlfriends' mother, look in on her and supervise some of her activities. There would be regular visits from the Hummels and her three best friends, and Det. Fabray, promised to keep an eye on her. She would be taken care of._

 _She went back to school and forced herself to continue with the yearbook committee and the school paper._

 _One of the first things she noticed, was, there was a definite change in her friend Matt. Something about him felt off. He spoke less to her and she often found him staring at her, not in a nice, or romantic way either._

 _She went through her days, ignoring his furious stares and completed every crap assignment he handed to her._

 _She knew he was questioned, about his side of the story, the day she found her mother dead in her bed. Whatever Det. Fabray had said to him, had kept him quiet and she took comfort in the fact that, in four months, he'd be graduating and out of her life._

* * *

 _One day, she couldn't take it anymore._

 _"What's going on Matt?" He stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, as though he was caught off-guard._

 _"Nothing, Jones." He didn't miss the flinch, at the use of her given surname._

 _"Why are you calling me that? It's M.J, you know that." He held up a hand and stepped further, into her personal space._

 _"We've been friends for a while, haven't we? We've worked together on this paper and you know that, I'm into journalism. Yet, you haven't once considered telling me your story, from your point-of-view." M.J's mouth opened in shock. She couldn't believe what she was hearing._

 _"Are you insane Matt? Who are you? You're not the same guy who came to my rescue at the movies, neither the guy who stayed with me, when I found my mother at home, dead to the world."_

 _"I'm still the same guy and I've kept my word, I haven't said anything to anyone. I want to be a journalist, I could hold back some of the details, but this is a big story…a big deal…and if I do it right, it could land me an internship at the Times. You've never spoken to anyone, not even that famous book writer. Your dad did, your mom too, but not you. I did my research."_

 _They were friends, at least she thought they were friends. He'd been with her when she found her mother and he'd even called the ambulance. And now…_

 _"You're an idiot Matt. The author and the screenwriter beat you to it. Nobody's going to care."_

 _"Are you kidding me? Everybody's going to care. You can come to my place, after school...my parents won't be there. No one has to know."_

 _A stunned M.J, froze him in a death stare and then walked off. The hell with it and the hell with him. He would be one less friend, and it didn't even bother her. She, however, was grateful he hadn't already published what he knew, in the school paper._

* * *

 _In the following months, The Oscars came, and the screenwriter for_ _ **Daughter of Evil**_ _, took home the gold._

 _The now fifteen-year-old actress, who played Mercedes Jones, walked the red carpet in fine style, after the movie tie-in release of the book, hung for sixteen weeks, on the bestseller list._

 _And the New York Times ran a three-part article, on Sundays, consecutively._

 _In turn, M.J buckled down, to focus on her school work, her photography and her 'family'. She told herself, she'd put the past in the past, where it needed to stay, and begin her life anew, as M.J._

* * *

When he'd realized that she was serious about taking pictures in his place, Sam thought about pulling 'that book' off the shelf. He'd done so long enough to read it again, to refresh himself, and almost tossed it into the box he kept for donations.

He didn't want to see that dull, stricken look on her face ever again.

In the end, he decided pulling it off, gave it too much importance and too much power, so he left it. She knew it was there, and if it went missing, she'd wonder why he took it off.

Weighing the stress factor, he figured it was at fifty-fifty, so it's best it stayed where it was. He took comfort in the fact, that she'd tell him when she was ready. Or, maybe, she wouldn't.

* * *

He helped her to take her equipment up the steps, where she paid more attention to said equipment, than what she intended to shoot.

He watched her set the tripod up, telescoped it and did the same with the light stand.

"I still have that wine you like, if you want."

"Thanks, but not when I'm working." He had the same rule, so he understood where she was coming from. He got them both Cokes instead.

"Can I have one of those chairs over there, for my laptop?"

"Sure. I'll get it." She attached the camera to the tripod, with her eyes narrowed on the wall of books. "That's an impressive camera."

"Hasselblad, medium format. It's larger media and higher resolution. I will be shooting digital first."

* * *

She took a back from her case, and attached it to the camera. He looked into the case, and understood why everything was so damn heavy. There were lenses, backs, cables, attachments… the works. How in the hell did she haul all of that stuff around? He mused. But didn't ask, because he recognized focused work mode.

He watched in awe, as she peered through the view finder, used a remote to switch the light on and then switch it off, popped an umbrella out of a bag, screwed it into the light stand and then, shielded that with a screen.

It was fascinating to Sam.

He watched her check everything again, changed the angle of the tripod and walked it back an inch. If she thought about 'that book', she didn't show it.

* * *

Halfway through watching her, he figured she didn't need him, so he got a book out of his office, and settled down to read, while she worked.

"Is there a system, to the way you've shelved the books?" He glanced up.

"Wherever they fit. Why?"

"You have Jane Austen beside Stephen King."

"I don't think either one of them would mind, but if you do, you can move them around."

"No, that's part of the point. It's a wall of stories. A person can take out any one and go anywhere. It's like…Storyland."

She pulled him into watching her again.

Shoot, study, adjust, test, shoot again. It made him curious, so he stood up and went to view the laptop screen. He was amazed. The colors bloomed deeper, the light a little dreamy. Somehow, she made some of the tattered spines appear interesting, rather than worn.

Another photo popped on. He couldn't see the difference, but apparently, she did, because she squinted at it and said,

"Yeah, yeah." She took half a dozen more, making minor adjustments and then crouched down, to create a slideshow, with all of the shots.

"How come it looks better on screen than in reality?"

"Magic," she playfully replied.

"You made art."

"I captured art," she corrected. "I want to take some film." She took the back off the camera, and switched it with something out of her bag.

"That camera does both digital and film?"

"Yeah, It's pretty handy."

He wanted to ask how, wanted to see how, but she had that in-the-zone look back on her face again.

She went back to work and he went back to reading.

* * *

She pulled him out of his reading, when she switched backs again, changed lenses and took the camera off the tripod. She moved around, went to the side and took a picture of the books, from a sharp angle.

He looked on as she checked the result, adjusted the light and took a few more. When she lowered the camera, and moved to the shelves, she was standing right in front of 'that book'.

For a moment, he thought she was going to take it out, but she pulled one from a higher shelf and carried it to the table.

"I want you with the Jane Austen. Can you bookmark what you're reading?"

"It's okay, I've read it before. I can pick up where I left off, if I want. You're serious about the hand thing?"

He felt more than foolish. No one would ever term him as shy, but the idea of taking pictures of his hands, felt weird. But it would make her happy and he would do anything to make that happen.

"Deadly serious. A tough man's hand, with a classic novel, written by a woman…one, a lot of people would consider calling a woman's book…priceless."

"A lot of people are stupid."

"Either way, it should work," she said, taking out her light meter. "And the light is good right here, for what I want. Good natural light, coming through that window, especially if you just…scoot your chair to the …right, just a couple of inches."

Sam did as she asked. Once he'd finished, she checked the light meter again and seemingly satisfied, she went for the laptop, and set it on the corner of a counter.

"Just hold the book open, the way you would, if you were reading it. Not the first page, make it look as though you were reading it for a while…about a third of the way through."

Sam felt ridiculous, but he did it. He'd give her five minutes to play around. She shot over his shoulder and her sultry summer scent wafted into his nostrils. Maybe ten, he considered, while she shifted behind him and leaned in closer.

"Turn the page…or start to, not all the way…just…stop…hold it right there. Good. Very good. But…"

She straightened up, looked at the screen and frowned at the image. He used that opportunity to twist around and check the image for himself. What he saw surprised him.

"I thought you were crazy, but it looks like an ad in a high-class magazine."

"It's good, but not quite there. It needs…something. Of course!"

She went to the fridge, pulled the door open and took out a beer. When she spotted an opener, she popped the top, and to his shock, poured about a third of it, down the sink.

"What? Why?'' he stammered.

"Tough hands, a beer and Pride and Prejudice, you couldn't get any better than that."

She set the beer on the table, framed it, and moved closer to the top right edge of the book.

"You didn't have to pour it down the sink."

"It needs to look like you're drinking a beer and reading Austen."

"I have a mouth M.J and a throat. You could have poured it in there."

"Sorry, I didn't think of that. Now, put your left thumb under the page, turning it and your right hand on the beer. I need you to cover up the label…I'm not looking for product placement. Put your hand on the beer like you're about to pick it up, maybe even lift it a half inch off the table."

* * *

Since there was no use crying over spilled beer, he obediently followed her instructions. Picking up the beer, setting it down, turning a page, not turning a page, until she lowered her camera again.

"Perfect. Just exactly right."

He turned to see for himself, and saw that the beer had been a great addition to the shots. It gave them a cheerful edge and balance.

"Real men read books," she said. "I'm going to offer poster size." Sam felt weird all over again.

"Posters?"

"Yes, Sam. For brick-and-mortar bookstores, adult learning centers, college dorms and even some libraries. You've given me some damn good work today Sam. I'm going to tell your dad that I need that steam shower, I wanted before."

"You're putting in a steam shower?"

"I am now," she excitedly said, as she scrolled through the shots on her computer. "I talked myself out of it, but when I get this much good work on a Sunday…I'm steaming." Sam pointed at her and said,

"I earned time in it, remember that." She smiled.

"You definitely did." She didn't resist when he pulled her onto his lap, but hesitated when he started to take the camera.

"I'm not going to bounce it off the floor," he playfully said.

"I know that. I'm just being careful. It's worth it's weight. It's tough and reliable, and as you can see, it's sharp."

"And this deal on the back? Is this what makes it shoot digital?"

"Yes. It's an excellent system. There are no pins to catch anything. This is not something I would take on a hike, but for what I wanted here and for what you want with the band, this is the machine."

Sam had to admit to himself, he'd like to play around with it, just to see how the mechanics worked, but common sense told him, that won't be happening, any more than he'd let her under the hood of his GTO.

"I use my phone if I want to take a picture," he said.

"There are some very decent cameras on phones these days and I've taken some nice shots with some. Shots that I've been able to manipulate and sell. Now, I wouldn't mind half a glass of that wine, while I break this equipment down, Mr. Evans. We can set up in the garage for the band shots afterwards."

"No problem baby. I've already got half of a beer."

"Thank you." After a slight hesitation, she kissed him and repeated, "Thank you."

"No problem."

* * *

She rose, went over and carefully placed her camera in its case and as he rose, to get her the wine, he saw her gaze flitted to the wall of books.

"I know this is a classic question, but have you read all of these books?"

"Everything out here, yeah. But there's some in my office and my bedroom, I haven't gotten to, as yet."

She allowed that information to sink in, seeming casual about it too. He brought her the wine and thought, she'd done the work she came to do, now, it was unto the second part.

"The thing about words and images, once the words are on a page and the image is printed, it becomes true." She took a slow sip of wine and continued. "They're not so different you know…words and pictures. Both freeze moments and both stay with you, long after the moment is over."

"M.J." He wasn't sure what he was going to say, or how to say it, so he decided to say nothing, as the sound of an old truck, with a rusted-out muffler, boomed outside.

"That'll be Noah and his muffler from hell."

"If he had a friend who was a mechanic, he could get that fixed," she cheekily said.

"I'll have to suggest that. For the millionth time. At least he can help us haul all of this down to the garage."

* * *

M.J liked Noah, almost instantaneously and it generally took her a long time to like people.

Noah had this bad-boy image about him, with a mohawk, boots, studded belt and all. He looked to be about an inch shorter than Sam, with a solid build and ropey muscles, contained in a tie-dyed T-shirt.

"How are you doing up on the bluff?"

"I like it." She set up her lights, as she considered ideas and options for the shoot.

"She needs help with the landscaping," Sam said, as he brought in…as ordered, his guitars, both his electric and his acoustic.

"Oh, okay. Boy, did they let that place go. They never did have much of what you'd call creativity with the landscaping. And the stoner never gave a shit."

"Marcy's ex," Sam explained. Noah went on.

"He stayed stoned most of the time. I should know, since I got stoned with him. I don't do that too much anymore," he added, with a wily smile. And finished off by saying, "I could take a look up there, if you want, and maybe, give you some ideas."

"Sounds great. I could probably use some ideas. Can I get back to you on that? When we both have the time to go over the yard together."

"Sure, no problem sexy mama." M.J laughed off his comment. But Sam, he sported a disgusted look on his handsome features, something akin to jealousy.

"No charge for thinking," he spat and then said, "Here comes Dave and Joe."

* * *

As M.J remembered, Dave the drummer was broad shouldered, of compact build, with dark brown hair. He wore jeans, a faded Aerosmith T-shirt and banged-up hiking boots.

Joe, the keyboardist, made a striking contrast. He had smooth dark skin, wide dark eyes and a head full of dreads. He wore cargo pants and a red T-shirt, on a gym-toned body.

They brought in their equipment, while Sam called out instructions.

It helped that everyone had their hands full and tasks to do. Because, M.J always had a problem, meeting so many people all at once.

A serious engine roar startled her.

Dave, who was adjusting his snare, said,

"That'll be Jake. Lead guitarist."

They watched as the big, black, tricked-out Harley rode in, with the rider looking as though he was born to ride it. Tall, dark and dangerous, M.J thought. He was a handsome guy with a roundish face and a generous mouth. He made you look. He aimed eyes as dark as his hair at M.J and said,

"Hi there, Slugger." Sam glanced over from setting up the speakers, and said,

"M.J, Jake."

"Hi. I saw you put Mindy on her knees the other night. She earned it."

"Nobody's seen her for a couple days," Noah said.

"Yeah, I just heard about that," Jake said with a practiced shrug, swinging his guitar case off his back. "Probably hooked up with somebody at the bar. It wouldn't be the first time. You had a lost weekend with her, back when, didn't you, Noah?"

"A half weekend. It was a moment of weakness."

"We all have 'em. Got any beer Evans?" Jake threw out.

"In the cooler, outside the bay." Jake gave M.J a lazy smile.

"Want one, Rocky?"

"No, thanks."

"There's water and soft stuff in there, too."

"I'll take a water," she said, as she placed her hands on her hips, looking around. She had ideas. "I'm going to take some basics, just to warm everybody up…test the waters, so to speak. Set up like you are onstage and go ahead and play something."

* * *

She pulled out her Nikon, changed the lens, and checked her light meter, as they got into position and decide what to play.

"Dave's got Aerosmith on, so let's start there," Sam suggested.

"Don't look at me, unless I tell you to," M.J ordered and begun to shoot.

* * *

Many shots later, she surmised she had some decent head shots, some good, solid and standard shots and some wide angled shots. When the last chord crashed down, she lowered her camera, with a satisfied look on her face.

"Okay, I need to see some wardrobe options. Noah, I want to stick with what you have on, but let's see what else there is."

 _"Men,"_ she said, as she perused the choices, _"They should really learn how to be creative."_

"I bet you have more stuff in your trucks and trunks." Noah came up with an old over-sized army jacket and she tossed it at Dave. "All you," she said.

"Seriously?"

"Trust me." She pulled out a white T-shirt and aimed the next question at Sam. "You've had this for a while, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then." Sam watched in horror, as she took it over to a grease stain, dropped it onto it and rubbed it with her foot. "Better. But…maybe, you should smear some motor oil on it."

"You want me to put oil on the shirt?"

"Yes, like you got some on your hand and swiped it across the shirt." She demonstrated. "Do that and put it on. Joe, is that red shirt new?"

"Kind of."

"Then, I'm sorry, but I have to rip it."

"Why?"

"Because you're built...almost like Sam is and I want to see some skin and muscle." Noah let out a hoot, much to Sam's chagrin. M.J continued. "Across the pecs, okay? Sam, I need some chain…not too heavy."

"Christ," he muttered, as he ruined a perfectly good T-shirt.

"Chains for me," Jake grinned at her. "You want to chain me up, Legs?"

Sam grumbled under his breath. He was pleased that the guys took to M.J the way they did, but they were a bit too friendly for his liking.

"That's what women will wonder, when they look at the picture," she replied.

"What kind of picture will this be?" asked Joe, holding his red T-shirt.

"Hot, sexy, rock-and-roll. If you don't like it, we can go with the basics I already shot. But let's try this. I want that compressor over here and the grease gun thing. And I want some old tyres piled up, right about there. You wouldn't happen to have a broken windshield?"

Sam tugged the stained and dirty shirt over his head.

"I replaced one last week, and I haven't taken the busted one to the junk-yard yet. I'll go get it."

"Perfect."

"I don't get this," Dave muttered and sniffed the sleeves of the army jacket.

"I do," Noah said, with a grin plastered on his ruggedly handsome face. He went on. "We're a fucking garage band. We're in a garage, let's use it."

M.J cheered on the inside.

With her lips curved, and her eyes focused, she said,

"Now you're talking. I want some tools. Big man-sized tools."

* * *

 **We're moving on. I'm at a crossroad. I'm trying to decide if I should go with the book, where Mindy is concerned, or not. I don't want to take away from our couple, by putting something else as the focus. I will think about it. Maybe I can come up with a compromise and do a merger. Woe is me!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate every one of you, who have added this to their list of favorite stories, those who are following, and those continue to read and wait for the next update**

 **I'm currently concerned about Tropical Storm Dorian, which is three hundred and seventy-five miles east of my island. Praying for the best.**

 **Anyway, n** **o flashback in this chapter.**

 **WARNING: Things of a sadistic nature, violence, rape and death are all contained in this chapter. I'm sorry for any offense caused.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession, that is the property of Nora Roberts.**

* * *

Sam Evans didn't want to think about how long it would take to put everything back where it belonged.

The bay had turned into a jumble of car parts, tools and musical instruments. All in all, it seemed a bit too, art house, over the top and out of the box to him. To top it off, he was sitting on a freaking compressor, with his beloved Strat in one hand and a cordless drill in the other.

Jake wore chains, bandolero-style and Dave looked baffled as hell, in Noah's grandfather's ancient army jacket. As for Joe, M.J had him, simply lay his keyboard, against a stack of tyres.

The only person, besides M.J, who seemed to think it was a fine idea, was Noah, who was sitting crossed-legged on the concrete floor, with his bass in his lap, and a grease gun in his hand, held like a rifle.

* * *

In the background, M.J had the band's own music banging out on playback, whilst she took some shots. No one said anything, when she pulled out a bandanna from a pile of clothes she'd rejected, dipped it into a can of motor oil and walked up to Dave.

"Come on, really?"

"Sorry, you're just too clean."

At that, she dabbed and smeared some oil on his cheek, stepped back, angled her head and smiled at her handy-work. She turned then, and said to Noah,

"Lose the shoes. Just toss them to the side…beside you…a little in front. I need a hubcap."

"I have one on the bed of my truck," Noah said. When he started to rise, she motioned for him to stay and said,

"I'll get it." Dave turned to Sam when she went out and asked,

"What the hell have you gotten us into?"

"I have no idea."

"She's hot," Noah said, lifting his shoulders. "Just saying. If you hadn't seen her first, Sammy boy, I'd make some major moves on her."

The cool look in Sam's green eyes, told Noah to tread lightly, or else. He did. He zipped his mouth and focused on his task.

"I just bought this shirt," Joe said, looking down at the tears. "And I only washed it once."

"Let her do what she does," Jake suggested. "Sam's bound to get lucky and owe us."

"He already got lucky," M.J said, startling him. Jake's eyes snapped to hers, then to Sam's and finally back to hers. There wasn't a hint of anger or embarrassment in them. He too, lowered his head and zipped his mouth.

"You had two, Noah," she said, arranging said hubcaps. "For now, I want everybody to look directly at the camera. Bad-asses, give me some bad-ass. Come on, let's see you steam up the lens."

 _"I should've gotten a few beers into them first,"_ she thought to herself.

But they did it. It worked. The light, the set-up, the arrangement, everything. She stepped to one side, and asked,

"See me?"

"You're right there," Sam pointed out.

"So, that means everyone can see me. Hold that thought." She went behind the camera on the tripod, looked through the lens and said, "Imagine me, imagining you naked." Things changed immediately.

 _"Men. There we go"_ she thought. "Yeah, that's got you thinking."

She came from behind the camera again, picked up one of the hubcaps, handed it to Dave and went back.

"Jake, wrap one of the loose ends of chain, around your fist. Move with the music. Play and have some fun."

"I've got a hubcap," Dave pointed out.

"And drumsticks. Play the hubcaps. Play the tools and the instruments. Whatever strikes. Play, as if you're onstage…you know how to act onstage…so act."

* * *

She took them from play to war…instrument and tools as weapons. After a while she said,

"That's a wrap, gentlemen."

"That's it?" Dave blinked at her.

"It takes her twice as long, to set things up, than to take pictures," Sam said.

"Okay, guys. You can come and see if it was worth it. I'll set the laptop on slideshow. See if you like the group shots, or if you don't. I've still got time to take the individual shots, but you'll need to change again."

"It's nice of you to offer," Dave began, "But I should probably…hey, that's a nice shot." The slideshow had begun with the basic band shot.

"Yeah, it's not bad," she replied. Dave went on.

"No, these are really good. Tons better than what we have now. You see this Joe?" Joe emerged beside them.

"Sweet." In his ruined shirt, he braced a hand on Dave's shoulder and leaned in to study the shots.

"Nice, we can really use these," Jake piped in, whilst unwrapping the chain.

"Can you email these to me?" Dave asked her.

"Sure, but…you're not going to want all of them. I'll send you a sample of the best, when I go through them."

* * *

Up stepped Noah, with a smug smile on his face.

"Told ya," he said, as he playfully punched Dave's shoulder.

"These are…" Dave was at a loss for words.

"Super cool!" Noah exclaimed, punching Dave again.

"I thought it was crazy, even stupid. Big apologies," Dave said, glancing at M.J.

"Not necessary. Worth the shirt?" she asked Joe, who replied, saying,

"And then some. These are great. Really great."

"That's talent and that's vision," Jake threw in, as he nodded at the screen. He went on to say, "We shouldn't have doubted you. Sam's got a knack for spotting talent and vision." Sam moved in, closer to her, with a soft smile on his face and softly asked,

"Favorite wine?"

"I could use a glass…just one, before I set up for the individuals." He took her hand, and drew her outside the bay. Looking directly into her eyes, he quietly said,

"And then stay."

"I can't Sam. I should really get back and take a better look at the shots…and weed through them."

He leaned down and kissed her, warm and long, in the quiet spring evening.

"Stay anyway."

"I…I don't have my things…" she stuttered out.

She wanted to take a deep breath and put some space between her and Sam, but she couldn't. Then, he kissed her again and her mouth worked before her brain did.

"Come home with me. When we're done, come home with me."

He went home with her and late in the night, when whatever dream was chasing her, making her whimper and stir, in a restless sleep, he did something he never did. He wrapped her close, in his arms and held her.

* * *

Whilst Sam was shielding M.J from her nightmare, Mindy was living one.

She didn't know where she was, or how long she'd been in the dark. The only thing she knew, was pain and extreme fear.

He hurt her, whoever he was and when he did, he whispered how he would hurt her more the next time. And he did. He always kept his promise.

She tried to scream, but the tape on her mouth prevented that from happening. Sometimes there was no pain. Those times, he'd put a rag over her face, and the God-awful fumes would make her sick, and she'd go away, from every horrible thing...and him.

She'd always wake in the dark. Cold and scared, wishing with all her heart, for Sean to come and save her.

Then, he'd rape her, again. He'd cut her and hit her, even if she didn't fight the rape. Sometimes, he'd choke her, until her lungs burned for air, until she passed out.

For the life of her, she couldn't remember exactly what had happened, for her to end up like this. Whenever she tried to think, her head would hurt, so bad.

She remembered walking home, being mad, so mad, but she couldn't remember at who, at what, or why. But she remembered…or thought she did… having to stop and puke in the bushes.

Then, there was this big car, with a camper…she thought. She'd walked by the camper and something hit her, knocking her to the ground. It hurt. And those same God-awful fumes took her away.

She wanted to go home…needed to go home, so bad. She wanted to go back to Sean. Tears leaked from her swollen eyes, and right then and there, her tormentor returned.

She felt the movement.

Thoughts ran rampant through her head. Were they on a boat? She felt, as she had before, when she heard the creak...scared. His footsteps. She struggled and tried to scream, although she knew it was useless.

Her muffled voice screamed inside of her head.

 _"Please, please, somebody hear me. Help me! Save me!"_ He gave her one hard slap.

"Let's see if you have one more night in you." Something flashed, blinding her and he laughed. "You sure aren't much to look at now. But, no worries, I can always get it up."

He cut her first, just to see her scream against the tape. Next, he punched her with his fist, encased in a leather glove, almost knocking her out. Then, he slapped her, to bring her around again, so she'd cry when he raped her.

It was always better when they cried.

Then he used a rope to choke her. This time, he didn't stop when she passed out. This time, he finished it and took her out of her nightmare.

When he raped her and choked her, he called her...Mercedes.

* * *

 **Very short, and very disturbing. I decided to go with the book, more or less. Once again, I'm sorry for any offense caused. Thank you Mowatts87 for your kind words and your faith in me. Much love to you.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey there, I made it! The storm has passed my island. There is still a lot of rain and the only downside is, I have to go to work. Anyway, Thank you so much Mowatts87, for your kind words and your concern. Blessings to you.**

 **Thank you for your continued support. You guys are awesome.**

 **No flashback in this chapter.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession. That belongs to Nora Roberts.**

* * *

Soaking, sopping spring rains came, made for muddy boots and dramatic photos. This meant that, M.J had to work on the inside, mostly in her room, refining work for the weekend.

She'd added Sam's band to her personal playlist, and their music could be heard in the background, while she worked on the band's shots.

But the music changed, when she worked on the shots of Sam on the deck, she'd switch to Blues and go random, for the book-in-the-hand shots. In her head, she had to get passed the upset at seeing that damn book, tucked in with the others on Sam's book wall.

Because, right now, she was experiencing something new and different. She was happy. Not just satisfied-happy, content or engaged happy.

Happy in a way that stuck with her right through the day, rainy or not. However it had happened, or if it ran contrary to ingrained habits, or what she considered good sensible judgement, she was in a relationship.

And she had to admit, she was in one with a very interesting man. One who engaged her, mind, body and soul. One who worked as hard as she did and enjoyed it as much as she did. Who could blame her for holding on to it, as long as it lasted?

* * *

She matted the manipulated shot of him on the deck. Toned it black-and-white, with his eyes boldly green, the white mug and the red-gold streak of the sun like an arrow, over the horizon, where sky met water.

She propped the matted print against the wall and stepped back to study it. The print reminded her that it was a start to a great day. She only had to eliminate the visit from the chief of police, but it was indeed a start to an excellent day, that ended as it began, with Sam in her bed.

She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, giving the prints arranged against the wall a critical study, when she heard a knock.

She made her way downstairs, opened the door and was met with a slow smile on the face of Noah.

"Hi. I figured today was good day to take a look around, since I'm rained out on a patio job," he said.

"So, you want to slosh around out here instead?"

"Rain's gotta rain. I didn't want to go poking around without your permission."

"Nice of you. Let me get my jacket."

"I can make some notes if you don't want to get wet."

"Rain's gotta rain," she said, making him grin.

"There you go. I'll meet you out there."

* * *

She disappeared inside, grabbed her rain jacket, her ball cap, changed out of her sneakers and donned a pair of boots. When she got outside, Noah was walking around in the rain, surveying the yard as he went.

"You got a good start on the cleanup," he said.

"Sam did. I'd barely started on it."

"He likes the work. My dad's always saying, he'd hire Sam in a heartbeat, but then, who'd fix his truck? I want to say right off, I hope you're not in love with those old arborvitaes, because they've got to go."

"I'm not in love."

"Excellent. Anything you especially want?"

"I was thinking, maybe, an ornamental weeper, like cherry. Over there," she said pointing to the spot.

"Uh-huh." He stood looking at the spot, with rain dripping off the brim of his hat, pondering her suggestion. "That'd work. Have you ever seen a weeping redbud?"

"I'm not sure."

"It's not red. It's lavender."

"Lavender?"

"Yes. Awesome color and just a little less usual. And it's got heart-shaped leaves."

"Heart-shaped?"

"You should look it up and see what you think."

"I will, thank you."

"You could maybe do some pavers, you know? Make them winding and not straight-arrowed like. Then you can set off the house with native shrubs and plants. You like birds and butterflies?"

"Yes, I do. Very much."

"Then, you've got to have a Mock Orange Tree. It smells good, looks pretty and it'll draw the birds and butterflies. You know what? A June-berry. It's got white starry flowers and it bears fruit. Purple fruit. You'll get songbirds with that…and you can eat the fruit…it's pretty good. Oh, and you can add some Rhododendrons, the shrub variety. They're deciduous and they make attractive foundation plantings and hedges."

He walked as he talked, gesturing, rattling off names and descriptions.

* * *

He painted a picture of something fanciful and lovely.

"I was going to plant a tree, a couple of shrubs, do some bedding plants and bulbs," she said.

"You could do that. It'd look fine."

"Maybe, but now you've got me thinking about plants I've never heard of and trees with heart-shaped leaves."

"I could draw it up for you. It'll give you a better picture."

"Okay, let's do that."

"Can I see around the back?"

"Sure. We're already wet."

His laughter brought a smile to her face. She really liked Noah. Her thoughts drifted to Kurt, then to Santana and Tina. As soon as she made it inside, she was going to call them, and invite them over. It was way overdue.

* * *

As they made their way towards the back, he reached into his pocket, pulled out something and asked,

"Want one?"

M.J glanced down, seeing the classic yellow pack, and catching the drift of that comforting scent, she knew and loved, as he drew out a stick. Immediately, it brought back a memory from long ago, where she, as a ten-year-old, sat in the police station, after rescuing a battered Katie.

Though she shook her head at Noah, she felt foolish. That simple pack of Juicy Fruit, cemented her initial impression of him, just like it did the sheriff back then, kind, sweet and loyal. No wonder he was Sam's friend.

She was pulled out of her thoughts, when she heard him say,

"You'll get afternoon shade here. It's a nice place for a hammock or a bench. And if you wind those pavers around, you could walk clear around the house, barefoot."

"You're killing me, Noah."

* * *

After a while, he stopped, placed his hands on his trim hips, looked up at the deck steps and out to the narrow ribbon of scruffy lawn, by the stone wall.

"You've got a basement, right?"

"Yes. A big one. For storage and utility, but I don't really need the room."

"Not now, but you might, when you have kids. And you'd want to build up that wall more, when you do. For now, you might want to put some hemlock over there, to give you a foresty feel on that far side. And some shrubs fronting the wall. Keep them low, 'cause you don't want them blocking the view. You could add a walk-out from the basement, and that'll give you a nice shady patio area, under the decks, and a sunny little backyard."

M.J was still stuck on the thought of having kids.

The vision she had months before, of two green-eyed or hazel-eyed, kids, much lighter in complexion than her, running around on sock-clad feet, came crashing through her mind. It was so vivid, she could almost see every detail on their beautiful faces.

She shook her head, as if to clear the memory and jumped back into the conversation, saying,

"I wanted to put some herbs and vegetables in…a space big enough for a kitchen garden."

"You can do that," he said, walking up the short steps to the first-floor deck. "It's still a ways from your kitchen, but you could do that. Or you could put in a container garden up here. It would work on a deck this size and you'll always get sun. Build it out of the same wood as the house, and make them look built in, you know? I could just see it now, herbs, cherry tomatoes, peppers, whatever. Fact is, containers are easy to maintain."

"And as steps away from the kitchen, it'd be more practical and more efficient, not to mention, pretty," she said. She could actually picture it too. "You know what you're doing, Noah."

"Well, I've been working the business since I was about six."

"No doubt. This seems like a lot of work."

"Don't look at the big picture, M.J. Whatever you do, do it in moderation. Some here, some there and some down the road."

"You're right. Draw it up and give me an estimate on each section."

"Sure. And there's this other thing."

"Am I going to have to sell the family jewels?" He grinned, shook his head, shooting out raindrops in all directions.

"Nah. Maybe you can take some pictures of the work…you know…before, during and after. We could use them in the business. Like a trade."

"That's actually a smart idea, Noah."

"I can't claim it. It's my dad's. I haven't seen what you sent to Dave yesterday, but I'm swinging by his place after he gets off work…I might be able to mooch dinner, too. But my dad took a look at your website and came up with it."

In any case, she'd still want pictures. She'd been documenting the progress of the house, for herself and her 'family'.

"That works for me," she said.

"Solid." They fist-bumped on it, eliciting a giggle from her. "I'll get you some drawings and some figures. You're really pretty, you know that?"

"Ah…thank you, Noah," she shyly said.

"I'm not hitting on you or anything. Sam's like my brother…although…he won't hesitate to kick my ass. It's just, you're really pretty and I like what you've done with the house. I should be going. Sam's on my ass about the muffler. I guess I'll take it in, let him fix the damn thing. I'll come by when I have everything worked up."

"Thank you, Noah."

"Sure thing. Later," he said, and jogged away.

* * *

Sam stood under an aging Camry, replacing brake pads that should've been replaced ten thousand miles earlier, with a scowl on his face. Lately, he's been finding himself doing more and more mechanical work, along with managing everything else.

 _"Some people just don't know how to maintain,"_ he thought to himself.

It needed an oil change and an all-around tune-up, but its owner, who incidentally was his ninth-grade American history teacher, still didn't believe he knew what he was doing…about any damn thing. And never let him forget, he was once suspended for skipping school.

Something that made no sense to him, then or now. Suspension for skipping school was like a damn reward.

* * *

He had two cars out in the lot, that he'd towed in from a wreck on the rain-slick roads the night before. A call that pulled him from out of M.J's warm bed, at two in the morning.

He'd missed waking up with M.J and having breakfast with her. He'd gotten so used to the sunrises and everything in-between, that it felt strange not to. Funny how fast he'd gotten used to them, and unused to sleeping and waking alone at his place.

Even now, he had the urge to see her, to hear her voice, or to catch a drift of her scent. This wasn't like him, he wasn't the sort who needed constant contact…calling, texting, checking in, dropping by…he just couldn't help it.

He'd make up any excuse just to do any of that. Sometimes, he'd have to order himself, to knock it off.

He had tons of work. And later in the afternoon, he had a quick meeting with Marcy, about the bar. He had books to read, sports to watch, friends to hang with and paperwork he should've done Sunday night…but he was in love. Deeply and irrevocably in love and he was happy.

* * *

He came out of his thoughts and shook his head, when he heard the unmistakable cough and sputter of Noah's shitty muffler.

"Get that thing out of here!" he shouted. "It's bad for business."

"I'm bringing you business man and half a jumbo sub." Sam paused long enough to look over at Noah, dripping wet as he walked in. "I went by and saw your chick…man, she's hot. Smoking hot. Made me want something hot. Hence the sub."

"You know, friend or not, sub or not, I'd take you to the carpet anytime. Eyes off."

"Hey, I'm not trying to be disrespectful or anything, I'm just being truthful…and I'm happy for you…you lucky son-of-a-gun. I'll trade you half the sub, for a Mountain Dew."

"Fine. Give me two minutes." He went back to the brake pads on the old Camry. "So, you went up and took look at the yard…"

"Yeah. I've been dreaming about that place, since I sat up there smoking dope with the stoner. Your smoking-hot chick is pretty open and flexible about landscaping. She listens. She's got vision, man, just like with the photos." Noah lifted himself up, to sit on a workbench and unwrapped the sub. "If we get a job like that, it'd boost us. That place is a landmark…a sad one, these last few years, but still…if we do it and show how we can turn it around, it'd have my dad doing the boogie. We're going to try to work out a deal for pictures we can use for promotions. It should keep her expenditure down a bit. How come you let Harry play that country shit in here?"

"It's all right. It keeps him happy…and you're forgetting something…I'm country too."

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

* * *

Sam walked over to the soda machine, and put in a few coins, for a Mountain Dew and a ginger ale. He grabbed a few paper napkins, then joined Noah on the bench.

"Is that Mrs. Wallace's Camry?"

"Yeah. She's driving it into the ground."

"I had her for American history."

"Me too."

"She just about bored me brainless."

"Me too."

* * *

They ate in the easy, companionable silence of two old, but good friends.

"Saw you got a couple banged up good in the lot," Noah pointed out.

"Yeah. They're from the wreck last night on 119. The driver of the Honda blew a one-point-one."

"D…W…fricking…I. Was he hurt bad?"

"He's a little banged up, the other driver is too. But I think the cars have it worse."

"Cha-ching for you."

"Should be." As he ate, Sam studied Noah's truck. "Are you really bringing that piece of shit in here for me to fix?"

"I can leave it if you can't get to it and hitch a ride home."

"I can get to it. I bought the damn muffler a month ago, figuring you'd come to your senses, eventually. I can shuffle you in next."

"Dude, my sincere gratitude. The chief stopped me this morning, on my way out of town…he let me off when I told him, I was coming back here after business, for you to take care of it."

Unsurprised, Sam washed down the last of the fire-hot sub, with the ice-cold ginger ale and said,

"That's one way to come to your senses."

"I'm going to miss the noise."

"Only you Noah," Sam said.

"The chief told me they haven't found Mindy yet." Sam paused with the can of ginger ale halfway to his mouth.

"She's not back?" he asked.

"Nope. Nobody's seen or heard from her, since Friday night. Since he had me pulled over, he asked if I had, or if I noticed her with anybody that night. He even asked if I saw anybody go out after her. It's gotten serious Sam. It's like she just disappeared…poofed."

"People don't poof."

"I know, they run off. I tried that once when I was pissed at my mom, over something. I packed my back-pack and set off, to walk to my grandparents'. I figured it only took five minutes to get there…by car…and being eight, I didn't calculate the difference on foot so well. When I got halfway there, my mother drove up and all I was thinking, is that, I'm in for it big time, but she got out, hugged me and cried all over me. Not the same though, I guess."

"We can hope it is. That she took off mad and she's sitting somewhere sulking." Even as he said that, Sam knew the odds of that right now, weren't good.

"People are saying she got taken by somebody."

"People?"

"There were talking about it at the shop, when I got the sub. Local cops are talking to everybody now, from what I can see. Seems as though she hasn't use her credit card since Friday, either. And she didn't take her car or clothes. They had Sean and Suzy looking into it, to see if they could tell, if she grabbed some clothes. Everybody, who noticed, saw her walk out of the bar and that's it."

They both went silent, lost in their individual thoughts. After a few moments, Noah went on.

"I can't say I like her. I know I had sex with her a couple times, but Jesus, she had a mean streak. It's scary man, thinking something really happened to her. A lot of people are fucked-up and they do fucked-up things. I don't like thinking about it."

Neither did Sam.

But he couldn't put it away.

* * *

By the time he had Noah's truck on the lift, and Noah, with a yen for ice cream, had wondered off to get some, he had a twist in his belly.

He remembered the look Mindy had tossed him, when she came out of the bathroom…where Suzy had dragged her that Friday night. It was full of hot fury, before she shot up her middle finger and stormed out.

That was his last image of her. A girl he'd known since high school. One he'd had sex with, because she was available. One he'd blown off countless times since, because like Noah, he didn't really like her.

She could have walked home in under five minutes, he calculated. And at the pace she'd stormed out at, it was more likely to be three minutes.

The road was dark, even with some streetlights. It was also quiet that time of night, with nearly everybody out and about at the bar, looking for music and company. Whoever was home, would most likely be watching TV, or on the computer. They wouldn't be looking out their windows, after eleven at night.

Had somebody come along and offer her a ride? Would she have been stupid enough to get into the car? It was just three to five minutes walk. It wouldn't make sense to get into a stranger's car. But it didn't have to be a stranger…the twist in his belly tightened.

 _"Knowing her, she might've hopped right in, glad to have an ear, to vent her temper to,"_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Nearly two thousand people made their home in the Cove, in town and around it. He realized, that this now included the woman he was deeply in love with. And he shuddered at the thought.

It was a small town by any measure, but there wasn't any one who knew everyone. And a pissed-off, drunk woman, made for an easy target.

He didn't see anyone follow her out, but if he had to be honest, he'd shrugged and looked away, when she shot him the look and the finger. He just couldn't be sure.

* * *

Even people you knew had secrets.

Hadn't he found black lace panties in the Honda, of the very married Rocky Graft…whose wife wouldn't have been able to wish herself into panties that small…when he'd detailed the interior?

Graft came off as a happily married father of three, who coached basketball for nine and ten-year-olds and managed a hardware store. Sam had tossed the panties but he couldn't toss the knowledge.

Or how about Mrs. Allen, who had smelled of weed and cheap wine, when he'd answered the breakdown call and gone out to change her tyre. She was a grandmother for Christ's sake!

No, you couldn't know everyone, and even when you did, you didn't.

But he knew Mindy wouldn't sulk alone, for going on to four days.

He was very much afraid that, when they found her, it would be too late.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. Like the two before, this was written in one go. I hope it was worth the read.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank for your continued support.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

Having a man around had some advantages, M.J surmised.

Sam was currently carting out her shipping boxes and the smaller box of prints, she'd framed for sale locally, to her car, leaving her free, to carry her camera bag.

Just as he'd finished, she walked up to him and said,

"Thank you. I'll get these shipped off this morning. You're heading to New York, Sam."

"Weird," he said, thinking out loud. "I've got to go." He tapped M.J's camera bag. "Going to work, too?"

"I am. I'll take an hour or two, before I head to town."

"Where?" he asked. When he saw her eyebrows raise, he backtracked and kept it casual. "Just wondering."

"Down below the bluff. I want to see if the rain blew in anything interesting. Besides, it's a pretty spring morning, the boats should be out."

"Good luck with that." He yanked her in for a kiss and afterwards said, "See you later."

 _"She'd be within sight of the house,"_ he thought, as he swung onto his bike.

* * *

On the road, his thoughts remained on M.J.

This whole Mindy thing, was worrisome and he couldn't be everywhere M.J was. He'd had a short, private conversation with his dad, about keeping an eye out and he knew all of the guys from the band would, also.

It was the best he could do, but he wouldn't be altogether easy, until they found out what happened to Mindy.

* * *

Meanwhile, M.J considered taking the car, because she could drive nearly half a mile closer, and then, take the track down through the woods, since she wanted shots of there first.

Then she could make her way down to the shoreline. It was a quiet area, but she really wasn't too keen on leaving her car by the side of the road, especially with her prints locked inside. She decided to walk.

As she walked, she took shots of some white, wildflowers, the rain had teased opened, looking like stars on the side of the road, her thoughts drifted to part of the conversation she'd had with Kurt, the day before.

 _"Oh, my gaga. I'm so happy for you…and him. You have to send me his picture."_

 _"Kurt, please don't read too much into it…."_

 _"Why not? Are you happy, Mercy-me?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Does he treat you well?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Is he honest with you?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Has he hinted, or come close to saying he cares for you, or those three sacred words?"_

 _"Yes. He did more than hinted. He said them."_ _A loud scream echoed down the line, causing her to take the phone from her ear for a moment._

 _"Ooh…the girls are gonna freak when they hear that. Now, I know you, I'm one hundred percent sure, that you didn't say it back to him… even though you feel the same way…am I right?"_

 _"I'm not sure what I feel Kurt. I don't want to surrender my heart and then…he…finds out…"_

 _"Oh, Mercy-me. How many times do I have to tell you? Your past doesn't define you, neither is it a catalyst for people to disappear out of your life, as quickly as they come. Sam sounds like a wonderful guy. He has to be…to notice someone as wonderful as you. Please let him in…take a chance…live in the moment, for a change. You deserve to be happy."_

 _"I don't know Kurt…"_

 _"Course you don't. And you won't know until you give it a try and give it your all. Now, no more ifs, ands or buts. I know he got some, so spill…I mean everything."_

 _A hearty laugh escaped her at that point._

 _"God Kurt," she said, "Only you. I will tell you, but I'm not mentioning anything about size, so don't even ask."_

 _"Bummer."_

 _So she told him. Not every detail, just enough to get him off her back._

* * *

 _Afterwards, she hung up and sent him a photo of Sam and he blew her phone back up, the instant she did._

 _"Dear God. Can one man be this beautiful? Is he real? We're coming…you best believe it! I'm going to make Santana and Tina wish they were at home when you called."_

 _M.J was in stitches._

 _Her over-dramatic bestie couldn't change, even if he was being paid to. And she wouldn't want him to, either._

 _"Kurt, you crazy person, don't go stirring up any trouble with the girls…and don't think I didn't hear your comment about Sam. Are you forgetting that you have a very gorgeous guy, called Blaine? How do you think he would react if her heard you mooning over Sam's picture?"_

 _"I didn't forget. I was just being truthful…and yes, Blaine is gorgeous. But, when I show him Sam's picture, he's going to agree with me…it's just the way he is…and…we believe in keeping it real in our relationship. When the girls get in, we'll have a pow-wow and see how soon we can come. My guess is, within a week. Please don't forget what I said, Mercy-me. Let Sam in…all the way. Promise?"_

 _"Promise."_

 _"Fabulous! Expect a call from the girls, 'cause you know they're gonna to hit you up."_

 _"Oh, I know that. Bye Kurtie. I'll talk to you later."_

* * *

She came out of her thoughts, as she approached a decaying log, surrounded by ferns, blanketed by lichen and moss.

The colors amazed her. The yellows, rusty reds and greens on wood, studded with mushrooms, that spread like alien creatures.

A pair of trees easily ten feet tall, rose from it, with the roots from them wrapped around it, as if it was in an embrace.

 _"New life, from the dead and dying,"_ she thought.

She continued on her scenic trek, snapping here and there and also stopping to take in any sights that caught her attention. After about an hour, she wasn't any closer to the shoreline and she decided to head back.

It was probably best to leave it to another day. But she wanted the sparkle of the sun on the water, after the misty, damp of the forest. She wanted the deeper, rougher green of those knuckles of land, and the strong grey of rock, against the blues.

* * *

About another hour later, she decided to pack up, head home and run some errands.

She turned onto the bluff's trail, stopping to take pictures as she walked. She could smell the water now, so she quickened her pace. Her errands were forgotten.

The trail angled down, and proved muddy from the rains, so she had to slow down. Considering the mud on her shoes, she realized that she'd have to go home and change them, before heading into town, to run her errands.

She smiled when she saw the water and the pockets of land, that opened up through the trees. She balanced herself, risking a fall, to get shots of the view, through low-hanging branches, with their fern-like needles.

Below her, it was bright and sparkling, but the spot where she was, with the angle, she was at, and way the branches fanned out, made the inlet looked mysterious. Like a secret revealed through a magic door.

Satisfied, she picked her way down, scraping her muddy boots on the jagged rocks, as she climbed over them.

* * *

Just then, she caught the diamond glint she was hoping for, and just beyond the channel, a boat with red sails, lazily glided by. An automatic smile graced her features, as she framed the red sails and snapped away.

She was so focused on taking the photos, when her foot made contact with an object, she stumbled forwards, almost losing her balance.

"What the…?" she started out, but her rant was forgotten, when she saw what the object was. A woman's shoe. Open-toed, with a long skinny heel, in cotton-candy pink.

 _"Strange place to see one of those,"_ she thought.

She allowed it to take precedence for a few seconds, then, shrugging, she continued to pick her way down.

* * *

Finally, she reached the coarse sand and the bumpy cobbles of the narrow strip.

She lowered her camera, to take a look around, but was rendered motionless. Her hands hung like heavy-hammers at her sides, and an icy chill enveloped her body.

There was something sprawled on the skinny stretch of sand.

Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, as her heart pounded away in her chest. After what seemed liked hours, but in fact, just about a minute, she made herself walk closer, until her legs began to tremble and she could feel the weight on her chest.

She dropped to her knees, almost robotic-like, fighting for breath…as she stared at a lifeless body.

It was Mindy Roth. Both her wrists were bound and her hands were outstretched, as though reaching for something she'd never hold.

The bright, sparkling light around M.J went grey.

The air was now filled with a roar, like a wild, high wave, about to crash down on the land.

Her hands were limp, but the weight eased, leaving a terrible ache in its place. Just then, a wave of nausea hit her and she said aloud,

"God, oh God! I can't be sick…Won't be sick."

Setting her teeth, she pulled out her phone, to make 'that' call.

* * *

M.J didn't want to stay, but she couldn't leave. The police had told her to stay where she was, and don't touch anything. She adhered.

She didn't want to leave Mindy alone, but, she went back to the rocks and climbed up high enough to sit, so the air can wash her clammy face.

After a few minutes, she realized she hadn't called Sam, so she took out her phone again and called him.

"Hey." His voice sounded over the loud music and noisy machines in the background.

"Sam." It only took that one word and the sound of her voice, had his stomach knotting.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?" His concern warmed her like a favorite blanket.

"I'm not hurt. I'm down below the bluff. It's Mindy…she's…I called the police. I found her…I called the police and they're coming."

"I'm on my way."

"It's alright. I'm alright. I can hear the sirens. They're coming."

"Ten minutes."

Though he hated to, he ended the call, jammed the phone into his pocket and headed for his bike.

* * *

On the rock, M.J stared at the phone, before remembering to put it away.

She wasn't in shock. She knew how it felt to go into shock. She was just a little dazed, a little out of it.

 _"I have to wait. They will need to get down the trail, so I have to wait. Someone hurt her. And probably raped her. They took her clothes off. And her shoes…."_

She swallowed hard, pressing her face into her hands.

 _"I can see bruises around her throat. I know what that means."_ Panic reared its ugly head, but she bore down and forced herself to take slow, careful breaths.

"I'm not going to break," she whispered.

* * *

When she heard the police coming, she took more breaths, and got to her feet.

The chief broke through the trees first, followed by a uniformed deputy, carrying a case. Then another, carrying a camera strapped around his neck.

"She's over there!" a voice sounded. The chief's head turned and she heard him let out a breath, before he looked back at her.

"I need you to wait here," he said to her.

"Okay, I can do that."

She sat again.

Her legs weren't altogether steady, but she sat and looked out to the water, enjoying its sparkling beauty.

After a while, she heard someone coming, too fast for safety, on the steep muddy rock. Then, Sam appeared at her side. He knelt down beside her and pulled her in.

She could have broken then. It would have been so easy to break, she was so weak. He eased back, and she missed his warmth immediately.

He lovingly skimmed his hand over her face and said,

"I'm going to take you up to the house."

"I'm supposed to wait, Sam."

"Fuck that. They can talk to you up at the house."

"I'd rather do it here. I'd rather not bring this into the house until, I have to. I shouldn't have called you."

"Bullshit."

"I called before I…" She trailed off as the chief walked back to them.

"Sam."

"I called him after I called you. I was pretty shaky," she explained to the chief.

"Understandable."

"I didn't see her at first. I was taking pictures. And then, there was this pink shoe…her shoe. I'm sorry. I know I wasn't supposed t touch anything, but I didn't see the shoe at first."

"Don't you worry about that. You came down to take pictures?"

"Yes, I often do. I walked from the house, through the trees and spent some time in there getting photos. But I wanted to take some here. After the rain. There was a boat, with a red sail…and then… there was the pink shoe." The chief took the water bottle out if her jacket and handed it to her.

"Have a little water, honey."

"Alright."

"You didn't see anybody else?"

"No. I only saw her…I went a little closer, to be sure…and I could see…so I called the police…I called you and I called Sam."

At that, Sam turned to the chief and voiced his suggestion.

"I want to take her up to the house, away from here."

"Okay, you do that." The chief gave M.J's shoulder a light squeeze and said,

"You go home now. I'm going to check with you before I go."

Sam took her hand and kept it firm in his, as they started up the track. She didn't speak until they were in the trees.

"I hurt her."

"M.J."

"I hurt her on Friday night, at the bar. I meant to. And she walked out of there with her wrist aching, her pride dashed and her temper leading her. If I hadn't, she would have left with a friend."

"I looked at you instead of her. Do you want me to feel guilty about that? To work up some blame because of that? This isn't about you and me M.J. This is about the son-of-a-bitch who did this to her."

His tone as well as his words snapped her back. She could hear the raw impatience with anger bubbling beneath the surface, in his voice.

"You're right. Maybe that's why I needed to call you. I wouldn't get endless 'there-theres and poor M.J' from you. That sort of thing just makes it all worse. And it's not about me."

"Finding her, is about you. Having to see that, is about you. You don't want any poor M.J's, so I'll keep them to myself, but goddamn, I wish you'd gone somewhere else to take pictures this morning."

"So do I. When I sat on the deck earlier, she was down there. She had to have already been there." She took a breath. "Does she have family?"

"Her mother lives in town and her father left many years ago. She has a brother in the navy. He joined up right out of high school. A couple years ahead of me. And she has Sean. This is going to flatten him."

"They don't care about that."

"Who," he asked.

"Killers. They don't care about any of that. They don't think about the lives that they rip apart. He strangled her. I could see the bruises on her throat. He dumped her clothes, possibly nearby. I think she was wearing those pink shoes on Friday night. She must've been with him since then, since she left the bar."

* * *

Sam wanted to pick her up, just lift her up and carry her back to the house. Instead, he kept a firm grip on her hand and an eye on her.

"There's no point in telling you not to think about it, so I'll agree and say, it's most likely he took her, after she left the bar. We don't know what happened after that. They've got ways to figure out, if she was killed there or somewhere else and dumped there."

"Yes, they have ways."

When they came out of the forest, she saw two patrol cars and Sam's bike, where she first began that morning.

* * *

As they approached the house, he looked over at her.

"I'm staying with you."

"Sam, you've got a business to run."

"I get, not wanting any there-theres." He had his arm around her waist now, a step closer to carrying her and he kept his voice level as he went on. "I'd suck at them anyway. But I'm not going anywhere…I'm staying." She stopped and turned into him, to let herself be held.

"Thank you."

He ran his hands up and down her back, soothing her and soothing him. After about a minute, they moved off and headed inside.

* * *

She went upstairs without him. She knew he was lingering below to tell his parents, so that she wouldn't have to. When he came up, he had water and cokes for both of them.

"I think it has to be worse, not to know. If she hadn't been found, or not for a while longer, it would have been harder not knowing," he said.

M.J nodded and turned away.

Some of the girls her father had killed, had been missing for years. Even now, after all this time, the FBI weren't sure they'd found all the remains. Jones gave them a name and location every few years, for some new privilege…and fresh attention.

* * *

As the day wore on, Sam didn't fill the silence with small talk, he just sat and held her.

A while later, a knock sounded and both rose and went to the door.

The chief appeared in the doorway, making M.J clasp her hands, to keep them still.

"I'm sorry, but I won't be long. I just wanted to see how you were doing and ask a few simple questions."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Good. First off, if you're nervous about being alone up here tonight, I can have one of my men sit outside the house."

"She won't be alone," Sam piped in, just as M.J was going to speak.

"Great. It'd be good to have someone stay with you. I just want to get your timeline. Can you remember what time you left the house this morning?"

"Um…it was probably around quarter to eight. I'm not sure exactly how long, it took me to walk down to where I caught the track. But I took some shots of wildflowers along the way. I can show you."

"I'm not doubting your word," the chief assured her. "I'm just trying to get a sense of things."

"I think I was at least an hour in the forest. And I took some shots from where it thins and you can see the channel. After I went down, I took more from that big flat rock…the first you come to, from the track. I didn't take notice of the time, but it had to be after nine." M.J was clearly upset and the chief picked up on it.

"Okay, I'm sorry Ms. M.J. I'm really sorry about this, but I have to say, I'm really grateful that you walked that way today. It might've been another day or two…who knows? Before anyone found her."

"You're going to tell Sean," Sam put in. "I know he's not next of kin, but you have to tell him before he hears somebody talking about it."

With a nod, the chief took off his ball cap, scraped his fingers through his hair and set it back again.

"I'm going to see him right after I talk to her mother. If you think of any other details, M.J, or if you just need to talk it through, give me a call. This house looks better than it ever did…well…in my lifetime. I'm just a phone call away," he added, as he headed out the door.

* * *

 _M.J woke herself from the nightmare._

 _She drew herself out of the cellar, and from under a decaying log, in the green forest of trees. The cellar where she'd found Mindy's body. The fear came with her and the images of the killing room, her father had built. There was so much blood and death in it._

 _Her breath wheezed out, wanting to clog up, but she fought to hitch it in and shove it out again. Then hands gripped her shoulders. She would have screamed if she'd had the air._

"It's me. It's Sam. Hang on a minute."

He turned her, with one hand still firmly gripping her shoulder and turned on the light. One look at her, had his hands taking her face in a hard grip.

"Slow it down, M.J. Look at me. Slow it down. You're okay. Deep breath in…and slow one out. You're going to hyperventilate on me and pass out, otherwise. Look at me."

She pulled air in, God, it burned. But she fought to hold it and slow it before she let it out.

She kept her eyes on his…so green. A deep, gorgeous green, like a peaceful, dormant lake, she could sink in and float away.

"Better. You're okay. Slower, slow it down some more. I'm going to get you some water."

She lifted her hands and pressed them to his. She needed those eyes, just that deep green, for another minute.

He kept talking to her. She couldn't really register the words, just his hands on her face and the green of his eyes.

The burn eased and the weight lifted after a while.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly. The water's right here, on your nightstand. I'm not going anywhere." At that, he reached around her, picked up the bottle and un-capped it."Slow on this too." She nodded and sipped.

"I'm alright."

"Not yet, but close. You're cold." He rubbed his work-roughened hands up and down her arms, trying to generate some heat.

"It was just a nightmare," she said.

 _"Not your first,"_ he thought, but the first time he'd seen the full-blown panic.

"Not surprising, considering. You should get back under the blankets and warm up."

"I think I'll get up and try to work for a while."

"There's nothing much to take pictures of, at…three twenty in the morning."

"It's not just taking them."

"I guess not. We should go down and scramble some eggs."

"Scramble eggs? In the middle of the night?"

"It's not the middle of the night. Didn't I just say it was three twenty in the morning? And yeah, eggs. We're up anyway."

"You don't have to be," she began, but he rolled out of bed and repeated,

"We're up." Seconds later, he said, "I know…waffles. I bet you can make waffles." He glanced over at her, studying her as he pulled on his pants.

"I could, if I had a waffle maker. Which I don't."

"Too bad. Scrambled eggs, then." She sat a moment, bringing her knees up to her chest.

 _"He just handled things. Nightmares, panic attacks, dead bodies at the foot of the bluff. How did he do it?"_ she thought.

"You're hungry?" she asked.

"I'm awake." He picked up the cotton pants and T-shirt he'd gotten off her, earlier in the night and tossed them in her direction.

"Do you like eggs Benedict?"

"Never had it," he said.

"You'll like it."

"Okay, if you say so."

* * *

Sam was right. The normality of cooking breakfast, soothed and calmed the spirit. The process of it, the scents and a good hit of coffee.

It made the raw edges of the dream and the memories she wanted to lock away, fade off.

And she was right. He liked her eggs Benedict.

"Where has this been all my life? And who's Benedict?" he asked, as they ate at the kitchen counter. She frowned over it, then nearly laughed.

"I have no idea."

"Whoever he was, kudos to him. Best four A.M breakfast I've ever had."

"I owed you. You came when I called and you stayed. I wouldn't have asked you to stay."

"You don't owe me anything and you don't like to ask."

"I don't. That's probably a flaw, I like to think of as, self-reliance."

"Okay, but you could get used to it…the asking."

"And you brought me out of a panic attack. Have you had experience there?"

"No, it's just common sense."

"Your sense," she corrected. "Which also had you distracting me with eggs."

"Really good eggs. Nothing wrong with self-reliance. I'd be a proponent of that. And nothing wrong with asking either. It's using that crosses the line. We're in a thing M.J."

"A thing?"

"I don't know what else to call it…that's because of you. I've worked out the definition and the scope of it already. How about you?"

"Me too. Funny how it sneaks up on you." He danced his fingers down her spine, in an easy, intimate gesture, and said,

"And here we are, before sun-up, eating these fancy eggs, I didn't think I'd like….and I'm good with that, so I guess I'm good with being in a thing with you."

"You don't ask questions," she said.

"I like figuring things out myself. Maybe that's a flaw or self-reliance." He shrugged. "Other times, it strikes me, it's fine to wait until somebody gives me the answers."

"Sometimes they're the wrong answers."

"It's stupid to ask then, if you're not ready for what the answers are going to be. I like who you are, right here and right now. So, I'm good with it."

"Things can evolve or devolve," she said. Why couldn't she just let go? And be right here, right now?

"Yeah, they can and they do. How long have we been in this thing, do you think?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know when the clock started."

"I'd say, the day you and the deer collided, but I know it's after that…for you. How long ago was that?"

"It's been about six or seven months."

"Well, in the time's relative area, that's a chunk." She laughed.

"That's a world record for me," she said.

"Look what you've got to work with," he said, giving her a cocky grin. "Let's see what the coming month brings around. For now, when we're done with these really good eggs, we should clean-up, take some coffee out on the deck and wait for the sunrise."

When she said nothing, he touched her arm lightly, and then went back eating.

"This is your place M.J. Nobody can take it from your or what it means to you, from you, except you."

"You're right. Coffee on the deck sounds perfect."

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. Until next time, much love to you.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other stories.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

M.J knew that brooding, worrying and second-guessing, accomplished nothing, so she sat down and composed a long email, to a friend who would understand…Katie.

She was always reminded by Katie, that life could go on. And she always would.

She wanted to call, and she nearly did, just so she could hear Katie's voice, but the time difference meant she'd wake her friend, before she was ready to get out of bed, with her husband of ten years, come December, or get her kids fed and off to school, before seeing herself off to work.

Emails were easier.

They often gave the person writing them, time to compose their thoughts and edit things out. But it helped, it all helped.

Making breakfast, watching the sunrise with the man she had an un-defined thing with, getting ready for a new day, even just to run errands, kept her sane.

Life had to go on.

* * *

At the post office, she unloaded boxes, carted them in and found herself caught for a full ten minutes, in the oddity of small-town conversation.

As she drove down the main street, she noted that it looked busier than usual. But it was spring, full-blown spring, which didn't just bring out the green and flowers, it also brought out the tourists, who wandered the streets and shops, with to-go cups, cameras and shopping bags.

As she looked for a place to park, she saw boats gliding on the water and the kayak/bike rental, doing a banging business.

She really wanted to try kayaking…some day.

She picked up the lone box left in the car and made her way down the sidewalk.

* * *

She knew Mary Evans was working today. She had called the night before, offering sympathy and comfort. She even offered to bring food, alcohol, and anything M.J needed, to lift the cloud of despair.

Friendship, so easily offered was as unusual for M.J, as ten minutes of small talk in a post office.

She opened the door of the shop, to a lovely citrus scent, an artistic clutter of pretty things and the bustle of business. The bustle made her consider coming back during a lull, only thing, she didn't know when such a lull would occur.

Then, Mary, who was discussing an old washbasin filled with soaps and lotions with a customer, saw her, and beckoned her over with a cheerful come-ahead signal.

So she wandered in, and saw half a dozen things she wanted to buy, but quickly reminded herself, she wasn't there to shop. She, however, ended up getting a set of wrought-iron candle holders, that absolutely belonged in her library.

"Let me take that," Mary said, taking the box. She had just gotten a minute's reprieve from the customer she was attending. "And do this first," she said, wrapping her arms around M.J, tight, tight.

She smelled lightly of peaches, M.J thought, as she returned the hug.

"I'm so glad to see you." She loosened the hug enough to ease back and study M.J's face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Mary."

"Sam stayed with you?"

"Yes, he did. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That's my boy, alright. He can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes, but his heart is always in the right place."

"I've come to realize that…he's…" The look on M.J's face said it all, also the look on Mary's.

"Aw honey, I know what you mean and it makes me so happy. I won't pressure you into admitting anything, just know, I'm very happy. On another note, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine Mary. It was a shocker, but I'll live."

"Alright. We're not going to think about it right now, although it's all anyone's talking about, when they catch a breath."

"Okay, we won't. Um...You guys look busy."

"It's a tour package." She took a satisfied and slightly calculating glance around the shop, inhaling and exhaling audibly. "We've got two bus-loads in town for the day. The town planner worked the deal months ago, so we're trying to be very careful, not to mention, what you and I aren't thinking about, in front of them."

She bent down to pick up the box again and said,

"I want to show these to Charlie. Come with me, she just went in the back, and we're covered out here for a few minutes."

"Are you sure? It looks really busy," M.J reminded her, but Mary was already nudging her along.

* * *

Mary skirted around the tables and the displays with cheerful chatter and it reminded M.J of a pretty bird, singing as it flitted from branch to branch.

They moved through a door leading into a storeroom/office area, where a woman with streaky brown hair, sat at a computer, studying the screen.

"I've got some potential stock and a nice young lady called M.J for you, Charlie." Charlie swiveled on her chair and slid off a pair of purple reading cheaters.

"I'm so happy to meet you. Pretend there's a chair I can offer you. I really like your work. I've combed your website several times and nagged Mary to get you in here."

"I'm flattered. I love your shop, which I've avoided, because I'm weak. I've already picked out candle stands and I probably won't leave without that oval wall mirror, with the antiquated bronze frame."

"Ooh, Mary's piece."

"It's a flea-market rehab," Mary confirmed. "M.J brought us some photos." Mary set the box on the crowded desk, "I resisted pawing through them first."

"Mighty kind of ya," Charlie said, pushing off the chair. She returned the cheaters back to her face and took a closer look. "They're all so beautifully matted and framed."

"Thank you," M.J said.

"I can sell these," Charlie said. She propped a pair of them against a box, stepped back and nodded. "With the tour, we can sell some of them, as soon as we get them on the floor." She took off the glasses again, and tapped them against her hand. Then she named her price. "Standard sixty-forty?" M.J nodded and said,

"That works for me."

"Good, because I really want them. And we can take more, especially the ones of local flora and fauna, local water scenes and town scenes. We can sell them as un-framed prints also and I'd love the inlet and marina shots as postcards."

"No problem. I can do postcards." Turning, Charlie wrapped an arm around Mary's shoulder, in an easy unstudied way, that told M.J they were really good friends.

"She can do postcards. Do you know how long I've wanted classy postcards?" Mary grinned and slid her arm around Charlie's waist.

"Since you opened."

"Since I opened. I'd take two dozen postcards right off, as soon as you can get them to me…no…three. Three dozen. I can sell a dozen to the hotel in a flash."

She turned again to Mary and said,

"Get these priced and out on the floor. Pick any spot you want."

"I know just where to put these," Mary replied, stacking the prints back in the box.

"If you've got a few minutes M.J, I'll print out a contract for what we're talking about," Charlie stated.

"Sure."

"Don't leave without seeing me," Mary said and went to work on the display.

* * *

"I'm going to do an order sheet for the postcards while I'm at it. How's life up on the bluff?"

"Pretty good. It was so easy to get used to, not to mention, the view is to die for."

"Well, I'm happy for you. It's good to connect to a place and the people in it, and I think you've done that. Mary thinks the world of you and I can see why."

A suddenly shy M.J, ducked her head and softly said,

"Thank you Charlie. Mary's made me feel welcomed, from the very first time we met. She puts me at ease."

"That's wonderful."

"Hey, what is that scent? It smells so damn good."

"That's Mock Orange in our diffusers today."

"I'm told I need those…the plants…but I think I need them in diffusers too."

"Tell Mary to get you one, on the house. We're going to make some money together, M.J."

* * *

M.J left with more than she'd taken in, but her purchases were justified. The house still needed things and Charlie was right, they were going to make money together.

There was no doubt about it. Four of the framed prints were sold before, she left the shop.

She loaded her purchases in the car, got out her camera and her backpack and muttered to herself,

"I'm going to take a walk and make some postcards."

* * *

By the time she got home, she was a bit tired.

Dwight pulled up the same time, and again proving the advantage of having a man around, he carried her groceries and gift-shop finds in.

"I guess you saw Mary."

"And it cost me. But I now have art displayed in the shop, by her hands and a contract for more."

She stopped for a moment, feeling the satisfaction of a day well spent. Dwight looked at her with a smile on his face. She looked happy, but was she?

They spent the next few minutes chatting about art and some of the places in the house, where she planned to hang some. After a while, she suspiciously asked,

"Are you keeping an eye on me Dwight?"

"Maybe. I figured Sam might be coming by shortly…"

"And I imagine your wife and kids, minus Sam…" She glanced at the time on her phone, thinking that Mary had probably knocked off from work. "Are at home, wondering where you are."

"Maybe. The twins won't even notice that I'm not there and Mary…well…she's…"

"In on it." He laughed and she playfully swatted his hand.

"I've got time, M.J. You know, I wanted to ask you about…" She cut him off.

"You're making time. And I appreciate the gesture, but I'm fine. I have a brown belt."

"I've also got a couple of those, too."

"In karate, smarty-pants. I could've gone for the black, but the brown was enough. And that's on top of the self-defense classes I've taken." Dwight chuckled and said,

"Then, I'll be careful not to get into a fight with you, but I'd feel better if I hung around, until Sam gets here. And I did have a couple of questions about the steamer you wanted put in."

* * *

He distracted her with talk of shower-heads, jets and other bathroom ideas, until they heard someone knock on the door.

"Must be Sam."

"Well then, you're welcomed to stay back, have a beer and catch up with your son." They moved to the stairs and started going down.

"I wouldn't mind a beer and see how my oldest is doing."

As she walked, she wondered if the thing she was in with Sam, had progressed to the point of giving him a key and the alarm code. It seemed a very big aspect of the thing. One to think about carefully.

But when she opened the door, it was Noah.

"Hey Dwight. Hi M.J. I've got those drawings and figures for you."

The M.J who'd first bought the house, would have said thanks, taken the packet and said goodbye. The M.J she was trying to find, took a breath and said,

"Dwight is going to have a beer. You can come in and have one with him, if you want."

"I never say no to a beer, after workday."

He entered and they all went to the kitchen. M.J opened two beers and poured a glass of wine for herself. She made a gesture, to the lower deck and said,

"Those spring chairs out there, don't look like much, but they are comfortable. You guys are welcomed to them."

Taking their beers, the two guys knocked them, lifted them to her and exited the kitchen.

* * *

She could hear their muted voices chatting, as she topped up her glass. Curious, she opened the packet on the counter and began to study the drawings.

When she joined them, they were both sitting in the rusted chairs, like a couple of guys, on the deck of a boat, studying the horizon.

"Noah, you're an artist." He snickered, flushed red and said,

"Aw, well, I can draw a little."

"You can draw a lot. And in the drawings, you've turned these grounds into a garden oasis, without compromising the space or the open feel. And the raised beds on the deck, that's just genius."

"Can I have a look?" Dwight asked. M.J passed the packet to him, and he in turn, took them and studied them.

"This is nice, Noah. Really nice."

"There's a brochure in there with different pavers and different patterns. We can get you whatever you want in there."

She nodded and sat down on the glider to look over the estimates.

"My dad did most of the figuring and the math there."

"Okay. It's a lot of math and figuring." She knew it would take some of her own, but she didn't voice it. "I want the raised beds on the deck. Cooking relaxes me after I've had a long day."

"If you ditch Sam, maybe you can marry me. I can't cook to save my life. But I sure like to eat. No offense Dwight."

"None taken. But I think you might be barking up the wrong tree, here. Sam can be a handful." Everyone laughed.

"I'll keep you in reserve," M.J said, and then, "I really want the front done, just the way you've drawn it. But I'm going to need another five percent off for the photos."

"I'll text my dad and see what he has to say, but I'm thinking he'll go for that."

"Great. And you can tell him, if this turns out the way we all want, I should be able to do the rest in the fall, and certainly by next spring."

"Fantastic! My old man's gonna flip."

* * *

Just then, they heard a vehicle out front.

"That must be Sam, now," Dwight said. He was right. Sam entered and was surprised to see that M.J had company.

"Are we having a party?" he asked.

"Apparently," M.J replied.

"Good thing I brought more beer. Hi Dad."

He came up with the six-pack he was carrying, and set it down long enough, to grab M.J's pretty face and give her a kiss, that went from hello, to steamy in a heartbeat. Dwight had to turn his face, but he was wearing a huge smile.

 _"A chip off the old block,"_ he internalized. Noah let out a whistle. He had just wandered back in from speaking to his dad, about M.J's proposal.

"Just letting them know to get their own woman. Do you want me to top that up?" She looked down, a little blankly, at her wine.

"No, it's good." A smug smile graced Sam Evans' features. He knew exactly how to throw her off-kilter.

"Another round?" he asked his dad.

"No, son. One is enough. Besides, I have to get going. I'll call you later."

He pulled Sam in for a one-armed hug and went to M.J, who was still looking as though she was in space. He drew her into his arms and kissed the side of her head.

"I'll talk to you later, sweetheart." She absent-mindedly nodded. He turned to Noah and offered him his hand, saying, "Take care of my girl."

"Will do."

Sam glanced at Noah, then, lifting the beer, but Noah in turn lifted his, showing that it was still three-quarters full. He disappeared on the deck with his phone again, no doubt talking to his father.

"Just me, then," Sam mumbled. He took the six-pack up, took it to the fridge and returned with a cold one in his hand. "What's all this?" he asked, pointing to the papers from the packet.

"My landscape. You didn't tell me Noah was an artist."

"He's got a knack." He sat then, blowing out a cleansing breath and took his first sip of the beer.

"Long day?" M.J asked.

"And then some. But I'm finished now." Noah wandered back in.

"We can start next week."

"Next week?"

"Yeah. My dad's going to want to come and take a look for himself…mostly to meet you, that's the truth. He likes knowing who he's working for."

Noah held out his hand, smiling.

"We have to shake on it. I'd rather kiss you, but Sam would pitch me over the deck."

"I'd knock you unconscious first, so it wouldn't hurt too much." Noah turned to M.J and said,

"That's a friend, for ya."

* * *

M.J smiled and sipped her wine.

She watched the two guys closely. There was a silent conversation between the two, that she wasn't privy to. They were subtle about it…they've known each other for a long time. But she caught the signals passing back and forth. She let out a breath.

"Why don't we talk about the elephant on the deck? I'm not tender and I don't need to be shielded. Plus, I don't like it either. So, has there been anything more about Mindy's murder?"

Both guys felt properly chastised. Noah looked down at the beer he was dangling between his legs and said nothing. Sam decided to be bold and honest.

"They did the autopsy. And there's some talk leaking out. It could just be talk."

"What could be just talk?"

"That she's been raped, repeatedly. She's been choked, multiple times, cut up a little and beat up on, more than a little."

"I don't get how somebody could do that, to another human being," Noah murmured. He went on. "I just don't. They're saying she wasn't killed down below here, just dumped there. I hear Sean just about went crazy."

"He loved her," Sam said. "Always did."

"It couldn't have been anybody from the Cove," Noah threw in. "We'd know if...somebody who could do that, lived right here," he finished.

 _"No, you don't always know what lives with you,"_ M.J thought.

* * *

In the next few days, M.J lost herself in work. She rarely worked on an agenda other than her own and found it interesting, to create photos with Charlie's specific wants in mind.

Whenever she talked, or emailed her family, she said nothing about the murder.

Drawing back into the old M.J, caused her not to give Sam a key, but she thought about it. And he didn't ask for one.

* * *

Though it brought on a massive headache, she attended Mindy's funeral. She sat through the short service, with Sam, and his parents flanking her other side.

It seemed to her, as if, nearly everyone in town had come, wearing sober faces and paying their respects to Mindy's mother and Sean.

The church smelled too strongly of lilies, for her liking.

The pink ones draped over the glossy coffin, whilst the pink-and-white ones, rose in sprays, from tall baskets.

M.J hadn't been inside a church in more than a decade. It reminded her of her childhood, of Sunday dresses stiff with starch and of Wednesday night Bible readings.

It also reminded her of her father, standing at the lectern, reciting scripture, in his deep voice. There was always so much sincerity on his face, as he spoke of God's will, or God's love, or of following the right path.

Being inside this church now, with the sun streaming through the stained glass, the lilies clogging the air and the reverend reading, all-too-familiar passages, she wished she'd stayed away.

She hadn't known Mindy, she'd only had a difficult encounter with her, but she'd found her, so she'd made herself come.

* * *

Relief came like a gust of wind, through foggy memories, when she stepped outside into the clear, uncolored sunlight, and into the clean unscented air.

Sam steered her away from where most had gathered, to talk, before the drive to the cemetery.

"You went pale," he said.

"It was claustrophobic in there, that's all."

 _"And too many who'd come, to sneak a look at me, to look at the woman who'd found the body,"_ she thought.

"I need to go to the cemetery," he told her. "You don't," he finished.

"I don't think I will. It feels too much like gawking, when I didn't even know her."

"I'll drive you back and drop you off."

"I should've brought my car. I wasn't thinking."

"It's not much of a detour," he began and then turned, as Sean walked up.

He was the picture of grief. Red-rimmed, dazed eyes, from crying and the lack of sleep and pale skin. He was a big man with a haunting, hollow look.

"Sean. Sorry man." They exchanged the one-armed hugs men seemed to prefer, before Sean looked at M.J.

"Miss M.J."

"Just M.J. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You found her. The chief said the way they'd…how they'd left her, it might've been a while before anybody did. But you found her, so we could get her back and let them take care of her."

Tears leaked out of his dazed eyes, as he took M.J's hand, between his massive ones.

"Thank you."

Habitually, she avoided touching strangers, or getting too close, but she was overwhelmed by compassion. She drew him to her and held him for a moment.

In her mind, she was saying,

 _"Killers don't think of this…or do they? Does pain and grief add to the thrill? Does it season it, like salt?"_ As she drew back, Sean knuckled his tears away and said,

"The Reverend says, Mindy's gone to a better place. But this is a good place too, she shouldn't have to go to a better one." He swallowed hard and continued. "Are you coming to the grave-site?"

"I am," Sam said. "I'm taking M.J home, and then I'll be there."

"Thank you for coming, M.J. Thank you for finding her." As he walked off, looking like a lost man, M.J turned away and into Sam's strong arms.

"Oh God, Sam." And she wept for a woman she hadn't even known.

* * *

 **I hope this was good enough. Until next time, Much love to you.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other stories, which I have not forgotten.**

 **Standard disclaimer.**

 **Long chapter and the last two paragraphs are a bit disturbing. Sorry for any upset caused.**

* * *

M.J came home to a quiet house.

Sam had brought her back, did his own security check of the whole house, before he kissed her and headed to the cemetery.

She tried to work, but she couldn't settle.

Whatever images she brought up on her screen, she ended up seeing shattered eyes.

Instead, she decided to take her camera out front, to take those before pictures, Noah needed. She'd make copies for herself, she thought, and maybe, put together a book on the evolution of the house.

Just then, she heard the sound of a car.

"Must be Sam," she said to herself.

But she saw the chief of police's cruiser, come up the rise and stopped in front of her house. Everything in her tensed, and knotted. She remembers seeing him at the funeral.

If there had been any progress in the investigation, she would have most likely heard it there. But, just because she found the body, it didn't mean, he'd feel obligated to tell her anything directly. There could only be one reason he'd come to see her.

* * *

She waited patiently for him to get out of the cruiser and make his way to her.

"I hope you don't mind me dropping in. I just came from the cemetery, and I want to have a private word with you, before Sam comes back."

"Alright." The knots in her stomach twisted tighter. She turned towards the house, saying, "I don't have a lot of seating yet, but it's nice on the deck, off the kitchen."

"The deck is fine. I heard you hired Noah and his dad to do some landscaping."

"I did. They are planning to start on Tuesday."

"You're making real progress," he commented, as they stepped inside. M.J only nodded and continued walking.

 _"Progress, for what? I should have never let myself fall in love with this house, or this area. And I should've never allowed myself to become so involved with a man."_

All of these thoughts crowded her already occupied mind.

"This is a really nice kitchen," the chief said, as he tipped back his hat, stood at ease and looked around. "And a view that doesn't quit," he finished.

When she opened the accordion doors, he shook his head and said, "Wow! That just about beat it all. Did you come up with this, or did Dwight?"

"Dwight."

"They fold right back out of the way. You couldn't have anything prettier than that." She took one of the spring chairs and offered the chief the other. "I saw you at the service. It was good of you to go. I know you didn't know her, and the bit you did know, wasn't especially nice."

"That bit holds no importance to me. I'm sorry for what happened to her."

"We all are." He shifted, turning from the view, so that his gaze met hers. "I wouldn't be doing my job, M.J, if I hadn't gotten some background on the person who found her."

"No, you wouldn't. I should have told you myself. But I didn't. I wanted to believe you wouldn't look and no one would know."

"Is that why you've changed your name?"

"Yes. The M and the J are the first initials of my given names."

"You were instrumental in your father's arrest."

"Yes."

"That's about as hard on a young girl, as anything could be. I'm not going to ask you about that, M.J. I know the case and if I want to know more, it's easy enough. I just want to know if you're in contact with your father."

"No. I haven't spoken or communicated with him, since before that night."

"You never went to see him?"

"No. My mother did and ended up swallowing a bottle of pills. She loved him and he had a hold over her."

"Has he tried to contact you?"

"No." For a moment, the chief said nothing.

"I'm sorry to add to things, but the similarities must have struck you…the bindings, the wounds, what was done to her and the way that she was killed."

"Yes, it did. But he's in prison, on the other side of the country. And the terrible reality is, others rape, torture and kill. Others do what he did."

"That's true."

"But I'm here. I found her. Like I found Katie. Only I found Katie in time. I'm here and Mindy was raped, tortured and killed the way my father liked to rape, torture and kill. So you have to look at me."

"Even if I did, I know you didn't take her, or hold her for days and do what was done to her. Even if I did, you were with Sam, at the times you'd need to be with her. I've known Sam all his life and I sure as hell don't believe he'd be party to something like this. I don't believe you would either."

* * *

She should be grateful for that. She should be relieved. Yet she couldn't find the energy for either.

"But you wondered. I bet, when you found out who I was, you wondered. Others will, too. And some of them will think, the apple doesn't fall from the tree. It's blood that ties us together and makes us who we are. My father's a psychopath. What does that make me?"

"I wouldn't lie to you and tell you I didn't wonder. That's part of my job. I wondered for all of ten seconds, because I'm small town…that's a fact…but I'm good at my job. I came here to ask you, if you're in contact with your father, or if he's in contact with you, on the slim possibility, what happened here, is connected."

"He didn't even look at me. That morning, in the police station, back in Maine, when they brought him in."

She could still picture it, in minute and perfect detail, down to the sun hitting the water fountain, and the dust motes in the air.

"I came out of the room, where they had me waiting. They were bringing him in, in handcuffs and he looked right through me, as if I wasn't there."

"You've moved around a lot in the last few years."

"I made it my job to do so. I was shielded as much as I could from the press, the talk, the stares and the anger. People uprooted their lives for me. But the shield didn't always hold. Every few years, he bargains for something, some privilege or the other, for the location of another body. And it all comes back, the stories on TV and online and the talk. My family…my best friends, says it's what he wants, more than whatever privilege he's thought up…and I believe that, too. Moving around, means you're not in one place long enough for anyone to notice you, or not very much."

"But, you bought this house."

"I thought I could get away with it. I just fell for it and convinced myself that I could do this…have a real home, a quiet place…and no one would ever know. If I'd walked another way that day or if someone else had found Mindy, maybe, but as it turns out, I didn't walk another way. I've got no reason to tell anyone about this."

* * *

She turned her head to meet his eyes again, and he gave her hand a pat.

"It's yours to tell, or not." She wanted relief, but she just couldn't feel it.

"Thank you."

"It's not a favor. I got background, through an official act. I don't go around gossiping on people's private business. I needed to ask you the questions I did. Now we can put it away."

"I…I just want to find out if I can live here. I want time to try."

"It seems to me, you're already living here and doing it well. I'm going to say something personal now and then I'm going to go, get back to town. It's clear to me now, you haven't told Sam any of this." The chief paused and got to his feet. "On a personal level, you're doing him and yourself, a disservice. But it's your story to tell, or not. Take care of yourself, M.J."

He walked down the deck steps and left her sitting there, staring out at the water, and the white sail of clouds above it, wondering if she'd ever feel again.

* * *

Like twin storms, grief and gossip rumbled through the cemetery, leaving Sam with a low-grade headache.

He slipped away as soon as he could, heading for his truck and had to switch the radio off, for the drive back to town. He could do with the quiet.

Nearing town, he patched in a call to his favorite lady and after assuring him she was fine, he decided to catch up on some work, he'd postponed that morning, to keep his mind occupied.

He stopped at the local Part and Things, picked up a ginger ale and headed over to his garage.

After a check of his worksheet, he opted to take the easiest first and work his way into the delayed workday.

Before he walked out to drive the Mini Cooper into the bay, for its diagnostic, he dropped by to see the progress in the body shop.

He considered himself better than good at bodywork, but Harry was a freaking artist. The wrecked Escort, would look showroom fine, when Harry finished the job.

"Back from the funeral?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. Frowning, Harry adjusted his safety goggles and said,

"I can't stand funerals."

"I don't think anybody likes them."

"Some do. Some people are fucked-up and get off at them. They hunt up funerals and go, even when they don't know who's dead."

"It takes all kinds," Sam said and left Harry to his work.

* * *

After almost two hours of working on the Mini Cooper, he keyed in the worksheet, on the shop's computer and sent it to sales. He broke away long enough to go up to his apartment, and make a sandwich with the slim pickings he had available.

Afterwards, he put in a solid four hours more and the headache went away, but he picked up a stiff neck instead.

In his short conversation with M.J earlier, he'd promised to pick up dinner, so he called in an order for, baked spaghetti, before going about the business of closing up.

* * *

He'd just started towards his bike, when Lacy from the restaurant, pulled in with her flat rear tyre bumping.

"Oh, Sam! Please." She actually clasped her hands together, as if in prayer, and jumped out of the vehicle. "I know you're closed, but please. Something is wrong with my car, it just started making this noise and I could hardly steer it."

"You've got a flat, Lacy."

"I do?" She turned and looked where he was pointing. "How did that happen? It didn't blow or anything. It just started thumping. I thought it was the engine or something." After raking her hand through her purple-streaked blonde hair, she sent him a sheepish smile. "Can you change it?" Sam squatted down.

"Lacy, this tyre is as bald as your grandfather, plus, you trashed it by driving on it."

"I have to get a new one? Can you change it for now and put the spare on?"

"You don't have a spare. You have a donut for an emergency tyre…and you can't drive around on that." He circled the car and shook his head. "Your tyres lost any excuse for tread, about ten thousand miles ago." Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

"I need four new tyres?"

"That's a fact."

"Crap. Crap. Crap. There goes the money I've been saving for a shopping weekend in Seattle with Lisa. And now I'm going to be late for work." She tried a quick flirt. "Couldn't you just…you know…patch the flat one, just for now and...crap," she muttered, as he stared her down. "You've got my father's look on your face."

That stung a little, as he only had about eight years on her. But he didn't relent.

"You could have a blow-out, and end up wrecked. I'll make you the best deal I can, but you've got to replace these. I can have them on for you tomorrow, before noon and I can run you over to work. I have a couple of take-outs waiting anyway. Can you get a ride home later?" Resigned, Lacy blew out a breath.

"I can just walk over to Lisa's and stay there tonight." Risking being compared to her father again, Sam shook his head, no.

"No walking alone after closing. Not right now."

"Everybody thinks whoever killed Mindy, is long gone. Just some horrible pervert passing through."

"Let's have a do-over. I'll give you the tyres at my cost and you make a deal with me. No walking alone after closing."

"Alright, alright. I'll get my dad to pick me up." When Sam narrowed his eyes on her face, she rolled hers. "I promise." And swiped a finger over her heart.

"Okay." He got the spare helmet and handed it to her. "If you break the deal, I'll charge you double for the tyres."

"Oh, Sam." But she laughed and got on the bike behind him. "A deal's a deal and at least I get a cool ride to work out of it."

* * *

By the time he got to the big house, all he wanted to do, was to sit out on the deck with M.J, maybe have a beer and let the entire day shed like dead skin.

He walked around the back, stopping long enough to take a look around. He saw her sat on the deck, working on her tablet, with a glass of wine on the little table, beside the glider.

He cautiously walked up the deck steps and said,

"I got hung up." She nodded and kept doing whatever she was doing. "I'm going to grab a beer and put this in the oven on low."

"That's fine."

Sam didn't consider himself particularly sensitive to moods, at least he'd been told so by annoyed women. Some even said he lacked insight. But he definitely knew something was off with M.J.

In his experience, the best way to handle things when something was off, and you didn't know what, was to just keep going, until whatever was off, popped out. Sometimes, if luck held, it just went away.

* * *

He came back with his beer, sat beside her, and shot out his long legs. And Jesus, didn't it feel good?

"Where's my dad?"

"At home with your mom and possibly the twins."

"I figured he'd hang out until I got here."

"I insisted he go home. I don't need a bodyguard."

It didn't take Mr. Sensitivity to recognize a bitchy mood, especially when it snapped its teeth at him. He took a pull on his beer and let it ride. The silence lasted about twenty seconds.

"I don't like the two of you arranging shifts. I'm not an idiot and I'm not incapable."

"I never thought of you as either one."

"Then stop hovering and stop asking your dad to hover. It's not only insulting, it's annoying."

"Too bad. It looks as though you'll be insulted and annoyed."

"You can't decide for me."

"Mindy's body, about thirty-five feet straight down, from where you're sitting, says I can."

"No one dictates to me and if you think sleeping with me, gives you that right, you're very wrong."

"That's a load of crap. It's so weak. You either tell me what's bothering you, or not, because I know when somebody is trying to pick a fight. I'm not in the mood for one, but that can change."

"You're crowding me, it's as simple as that." She pushed off the glider, picked up her wine and set down the tablet. "I bought this place because I like being alone and now, I never am."

She took a long drink from the glass, which he'd bet a week's profits, wasn't her first for the evening.

"Well, that could change. If you're trying to give me the boot, then be straight about it."

"I need some space."

"Clichés like that, are even weaker crap. You can do better."

"I shouldn't have started this…thing with you. It's moving to fast and has gotten too complicated."

Anger and something he couldn't quite pin down, spiked into her voice.

"I'm tired of feeling surrounded and boxed in. It just needs to stop. You, this house and the yard. It's all too much. It's all a mistake and it needs to stop."

He wanted to push back and hard, because, Jesus, she'd hurt him. He hadn't expected the punch or just how much it completely flattened him. Complicated? She had that right. Complications twisted up inside of him he hadn't known existed.

But she was shaking and her breath came just a little too fast. She was working herself up into another panic attack, and he damn well knew why.

* * *

"You want me gone, I'll go. I don't force myself on anyone, but give me the truth."

"I just did! This is a mistake. All of this and I need to correct it."

"By dumping me and this house? What you've started making here? That's not what you want."

"You don't know what I want." She hurled the words at him, like fiery darts, along with fear-tinge rage. "You don't know me."

"I damn well do."

"You don't! That's the crap. You don't know me, who I am, or what I am. You know months, the months I've been here. You don't know anything from before. You don't know me."

It struck him then, clear as day, that the unidentified something under it all, the base of the anger and fear, was grief. Beer forgotten, he rose to his feet and said,

"Yes, I do. I know who you are, where you came from, what you went through and what you're trying to make now, away from it all."

Shocked, she shook her head and took a step in retreat. "You can't."

He saw her lips tremble before she pressed them together and saw tears glitter before she forced them back. "Chief Michaels told you."

Sam knew he had the match on the fuse and he wasn't about to retract.

"No, he didn't. I haven't spoken to him, in fact, I haven't seen him since the cemetery. But you have. I see that now. He didn't tell me anything, you did."

She crossed her arms over her body, gripping her own shoulders, as if she was shielding herself. Not from him, he thought. Goddamn it! Not from him.

"I never told you anything."

"You didn't have to." Right about then, he pushed down his anger. He'd let it fly later, but for now, he decided to speak matter-of-factly.

"That day up at my place, that first time, you saw the book on my shelf. You looked like someone had put the fear of God in you. It didn't take much to figure it out from there. There are photos in the book. You were about ten or eleven, I guess. Just a kid. You've changed your hair and obviously you've grown up. But you have the same eye and the same look about you. And M.J is not an everyday name."

"You knew." The skin on her knuckles went as pale as her face.

"I can wish with all of my heart, that the book hadn't been there to put that look on your face. But it was and it did."

"You…you've told your parents."

"No."

The doubt in her eyes was so clear, he waited for a beat, and kept his eyes locked on hers.

"No," he repeated. "Womb to tomb doesn't mean I'll tell them what you don't want told."

"You haven't told them?" Her fingers loosened on her shoulder, and her hand slid down. "You've known all this time, known since before we…Why haven't you said anything to me? Or ask me?"

"Once I knew, I couldn't put that look on your face again. And to be honest, I was hoping you'd tell me before I had to shove it in your face, like this, but you pushed the buttons."

"You didn't." Rubbing the heel of her hand between her brows, she turned away. "You didn't shove it in my face. Others have, so I know exactly what it feels like. I need a minute."

"If you need to yell, I can handle it. If you need to cry, I can handle that too, but I prefer yelling."

"I'm not going to cry or yell."

"I think most people would do both. But you're not most people."

"I'm aware of that."

"Shut up." His temper shocked her enough to make her turn back. "Just shut the hell up." It was his turn to let some of the anger loose. "Are you stupid? Maybe I don't know you, because I pegged you as smart. Really smart. But maybe you are stupid enough to believe, because you share the same DNA with a psychotic bastard, you're made wrong."

"He's a monster and he's my father."

"My father doesn't know a carburetor from a brake pad, he owns carpentry tools, a set of golf clubs and he likes listening."

"That's not the same, at all."

"Why not? Why the hell not? We have blood ties, he raised me…with my mom, but we can be as different as they come. He reads one book a year, as long as it is a bestseller. And sometimes, we baffle each other, every time we spend more than an hour together."

"It's not…"

"You can be whatever you choose to be, with the same gene pool, without feeling tainted."

"I know that. "Intellectually, I know better, but sometimes it feels as though I'm tainted."

"Get over it." She pinned him in a hard stare.

"Get…over it?"

"Yeah. Get over it, move on. Your father is as fucked up as it gets, that doesn't mean you have to be."

"My father is the most notorious serial killer of the century."

"It's a young century, yet," he said with a shrug and had her staring again.

"God, I don't understand you."

"Understand this, then. It's insulting and annoying…remember that? For you to think I'd feel any different about you, because your father is Marcus Tyrone Jones. That I'd act differently, because, almost fifteen years ago you saved a life…possibly many more. And if this whole fucked-up bullshit, is the reason for you trying to kick me to the curb, you're out of luck. I don't kick that easy."

"I don't know what to say to you, now."

"If you want me gone, don't use your father as the lever to pry me loose."

"I need to sit down."

* * *

She sat on the glider, obviously deciding. But she needed to.

"I didn't mean it," she murmured. "I didn't mean what I said about you. I told myself I should mean it. It's easier to keep moving than to put down roots, Sam, for someone like me."

"I don't think so. I think that's something else you've told yourself, until you mostly believe it. If you believed it all the way through, you wouldn't have bought this house. You wouldn't have brought it back to life." He crossed over and sat beside her. "You would have slept with me, though. I saw it the first time you came into the bar."

"Oh, really?" He wasn't yet settled, but he was getting there. He picked up his beer again, took a sip and said,

"I've got a sense about when a woman's going to be willing. But if you believed all of that crap, all the way through, this wouldn't have turned into a thing."

"It wasn't supposed to."

"A lot of good things happened by accident. If Charles Goodyear hadn't been clumsy, we wouldn't have vulcanized rubber."

"What?"

"Weatherproof rubber…tyres, for instance, as in Goodyear. He was trying to figure out how to make rubber weatherproof and dropped his experiment on the stove by accident."

Baffled, M.J rubbed her aching temple and said,

"I've completely lost the point."

"Not everything has to be planned to work out. Maybe we both figured we'd bang it out a few times and move on, but we didn't. And it's working out all right."

The sound of her own laughter surprised her.

"Wow, Sam, my heart's fluttering from that romantic description. It's like a sonnet."

"You want romance? I could bring you flowers."

"I don't have anything to put them in." She sighed. "I don't need romance…I don't know what I'd do with it. I like knowing my feet are solid on the ground, And they haven't been, not consistently, since I saw this house. Today…the funeral…it hit so hard, because it reminded me, again, of all the people my father hurt. Not just the women he killed, but the people who loved them."

"I would've been sorry you found her, no matter what, but I am a hell of a lot sorrier, knowing what it brought back. Have you talked to your family about it?"

"No. Why bring it back for them? I wasn't going to talk to anyone about it."

"It's yours to tell or not. You'd find good friends in my parents, especially my mom. They adore you. If you won't trust them...or her, then, it's a disservice to them and you."

"That's what the chief said to me…that word disservice, about me not telling you."

"Do you want to tell me what else he said?" She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to feel the man beside her.

"The world just fell out from under me. Just dropped away. I expected it…that he'd do a background check on me, because I found the body. He was straightforward and he was kind. He said he won't tell anyone else…that he hadn't and wouldn't. I've never been around anyone but family, who knew. Or if it came out, I left before things changed."

"You mean, left before you knew if they'd change or not?"

"Maybe that's true, but, I've been through those changes, and they're awful. They steal everything and crush you."

"I'm sitting here having a beer, like I'd hope to do, since I closed the garage. There's a hot meal keeping warm in the oven, and a nice sunset out there. Nothing has changed and doesn't need to. You'll get used to it."

Nothing needed to change. Could that be true? Was it really possible?

"Maybe we can just sit here for a while longer, until I get used to it," she said.

"That works for me."

* * *

Hours later, when all the bars had shut down for the night and the streets went quiet, with pools of light from streetlights shimmering in the dark, 'he' watched and waited.

He'd taken the time to study the routine, along the main street, with its shops and restaurants. In that time, he also studied the women who closed up those shops, or walked home from their jobs alone.

He had his eye on the young pretty blonde, but he wouldn't be picky. At least three young ones worked the late shift at the pizzeria.

He'd take his pick, but the pretty young blonde, she was top choice.

He'd left the camper at the campground, a good twelve miles away, all legally set up. If they only knew what he'd done inside that home away from home. The idea of it made him want to chuckle.

But the excitement grew, like a hot ball in his belly, when the rear door of the restaurant opened. It was the hot little blonde, just as he'd hoped. And she was all alone.

He slipped out of the car, on the dark edge of the lot, with a rag soaked in chloroform, held down at his side.

He liked using chloroform, going old-school style. It put them out…no fuss, even if it tended to make them a little sick. It just added to the process.

He eyed her as she walked along, her firm young tits bouncing and her tight young ass swaying. He glanced back towards the restaurant, making sure no one else had come out, and made his move.

* * *

Suddenly, headlights blasted the darkness of the lot, making him jump back into the shadows.

The little blonde waited for the car to turn toward her, then opened the passenger door and got in.

"Thanks dad," he heard her say, and then,

"No problem, honey."

He went mad. He wanted to kick something, as the object of his desire drove off, leaving him yearning and hot. Tears actually gathered in the corners of his eyes. But then, the door opened again.

Two came out this time. He saw them clearly, as the light above the door illuminated them. He heard their voices and their laughter as they talked.

Then one of the boys came out. He and the younger of the two women, linked hands and strolled off together. The young girl turned around, walked backwards and said,

"Have fun tomorrow. Drive safely."

The lone woman started across the lot. She wasn't young like the others, and she wasn't as pretty. She wasn't blonde like his desire, but she'd do. She'd do well enough.

He stealthily moved into position as she hummed to herself, whilst digging into her purse, to get out her key.

All he had to do, was to step up behind her and he did. He deliberately gave her that instant to feel fear, making her heart jump a she turned her head.

Then he covered her face with the cloth, and gripped her around the waist while she struggled. Her muffled screams, came out hot against his hand, but she went quickly. Almost too quickly, her body went limp.

He had her in the back of the car, wrists and ankles wrapped in duct tape, more tape over her mouth and a blanket over her, in twenty seconds.

He drove out of the lot, through the town, careful to keep the required speed limit, and to use his turn signals. He didn't even turn on the radio, until he passed the town limits.

He opened the windows to cool his hot cheeks, and flicked a glance in the rearview at the shape under the blanket.

"We're going to have some fun. You and me, are going to have one hell of a time.

* * *

 **Whew! I'm so glad I got that last part over with. (Shivering)**

 **Thank you monni2215 for your kind words and your concern. God bless.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you for staying with me, on this and my other stories.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own 'The Obsession.'**

* * *

By the time Sunday rolled around, the only thing Sam wanted in this world, was to sleep, until the sun came up.

Three road service calls on Friday night, had pulled him away from practice, for a Saturday night gig…and drag him out of bed, twice.

* * *

The band had rocked the bar, in the next town over. They got good exposure, good pay and had a great time, but he hadn't flopped into M.J's bed, until two in the morning.

Three hours later, he awoke alone and disoriented. He scrubbed his hands over his face and thought, ' _M.J.'_

Christ, he needed a shave…not his favorite sport. Then he remembered it was Sunday, and he didn't see why anybody had to shave on Sunday.

The sun shone through the glass doors, and through them, he could see the blue lines of water, the quiet spread of it beyond the inlet. A couple of boats, probably early risers, were out and about, looking busy on the water. He wasn't a fan of boats, any more than he was a fan of shaving, but he appreciated the look of them.

But at the moment, he'd appreciate a cup of coffee, a hell of a lot more.

* * *

He got up, pulled on his jeans and saw a T-shirt he'd left there at some point, neatly folded on the dresser. He pulled it on, grateful, he didn't have to put on the one he'd sweated through the night before, and discovered that whatever she used to wash stuff in, smelled way better than the one he used.

He smiled, thinking about his parents. They were the best. He'd call them and asked them to come to the gig, in the next town, to help him with a little idea he'd come up with.

They were more than happy to accommodate him. It made it easy for him to persuade M.J to go with them, even if it was just for a couple of hours. He'd like seeing her there and he knew without a doubt, his Dad would make sure she got home, got in the house and locked up safe, until he got back.

* * *

M.J had given him a key and the code for the alarm. He wasn't sure if it was just for that night, or what. He didn't think she was sure either.

The arrangement would be so much easier, if he could leave a few essentials at her place, but this being 'brand-new territory,' he wasn't quite sure of his ground there.

He'd never lived, or even half lived with a woman before. He'd been careful not to. His space might not be as big as M.J's, but he liked his space all the same. Yet, here he was, getting out of her bed, again, wearing a shirt she'd washed, and thinking about hitting her up for coffee.

This thing between them, had a lot of moving parts, and although he knew how they all fitted, she's yet to figure out how. But he would work his ass off, to help her figure it out, he told himself, as he walked out to the sound of her voice…and coffee. He's always had a way of helping people to figure out how things fit.

* * *

He immediately changed directions, from the pursuit of coffee and followed her voice, the sound of it pitched low, as he walked up to her temporary work space.

She had the windows wide open, and the sun flooded her image. It turned her hair into different colors. Sometimes, a darkish bronze, a very dark, almost purple and a deep caramel, as she used a long tool to cut some mat board, while she muttered away to herself.

She looked…so lovely, and he fell for her a little more. His heart seemed to be doing some kind of dance, as he took her in.

Nearby, a big, slick printer, hummed, while it slid a poster-sized print into a tray. It took him a minute to realize, the poster-sized print was of his hands, holding the Austen book.

He saw himself again, already framed and matted, leaning against the wall. That shot she'd taken in the early morning, with the sunrise at his back, and his eyes on her.

She had other poster prints, of his book wall, his hands again and the sunrise over the inlet, clipped to the arms of some sort of stand and a stack of smaller prints in a tray.

She was immersed in her work and immersed in sunlight.

Her small hands, competent with her tools and those brown eyes focused on her art. Her short curvy body was clad in a pale blue shirt, and short khaki pants, that stopped just before her knees and her feet were bare.

This is what it is, this was how it fit. How his fit anyway. It fitted, all of those moving parts, because he was in love with her. The universe should have given him a heads-up on that, months ago. He would have needed time, needed to adjust and regroup, to deal with such a strong, beautiful, sexy…he could go on…fantastic creature.

* * *

She lifted her head, glanced over, and her eyes met his.

Something blew through him, that storm of a feeling and it almost took his breath. For an instant, he wondered how people lived this way, how they could carry so much for someone inside of them.

He crossed over to her, yanked her up to her toes and took her mouth like a starving man. This…her…his life…could never be the same…ever. Love changed everything.

* * *

M.J wasn't sure what had happened.

She was completely thrown off-balance.

She had to grip Sam's shoulders, to anchor herself.

He made her head spin, her heart race and her knees weak. Overcome, she held on, and rode out the hot, fast wave with him.

When he eased back, she laid her hands on his cheeks, let out a long breath and said,

"Wow, and good morning." He remained silent. He rested his forehead on hers for a moment, whilst tenderness twined with heat. "Are you alright?" she asked.

 _"No, I might not be alright for years."_

"You should always wear sunlight. It looks good on you," he said. She smiled and it lifted his already racing heart.

"And I think you should always sleep in."

"No one in the world considers eight on a Sunday morning, sleeping in." To give himself a moment to settle, Sam turned to the prints and said, "You've been busy."

"I've got orders. The gallery, the Internet and Charlie," she replied.

"So you were right about the hands."

"Yep. I got many hits on my website and tons of orders for downloads, prints and posters, on that and the book wall. I have to order more supplies."

He looked around at the many boxes and stacks.

"More?"

"Yes, more. I can't set up in here as efficiently as I will, once the lighting is correct in my studio and I move in. I might have to break my own rule and nag the company on that, but for now, I can make do. You got in late."

"Yeah, I got here around two, or there-about."

"I heard you."

"Sorry if I woke you."

"Not a problem. I went back out like a light. You guys sounded good last night."

"Yeah, I think we had it down." She clipped the poster in place and moved over to the tray.

"What do you think of these?" He was about to tell her, he'd look after coffee, as the need for it reared up strong, but he saw the print of the band, one with tools and the broken windshield. So he took the stack and paged through.

"Jesus, M.J, these are great. Really great. Dave keeps saying how he can't decide what to use, or which for what, on and on, until you want to punch him."

"That's why I printed some out. You've all seen them on the computer, but sometimes prints can help you make a choice."

"I doubt it. They are all great. You did some black-and-white."

"Yes. You should all pick one for yourselves. I'll frame that one for you. And you should pick one to go in Marcy's."

"Yeah, maybe. The black-and-white should go to Marcy's, because it fits the atmosphere better."

"I agree."

"Dave's going to develop a nervous tic, trying to decide." He placed the prints back in the tray and told her, "I need coffee."

"Go ahead. I've got a couple of things to finish up, and then I'll be down. Maybe we could sit out on the deck for a bit. It's too nice of a day to be inside."

"It is. We could take a nice, relaxing drive along 101. GTO or bike, your choice."

"Ooh, the convertible. I could take some equipment with us. You never know…"

"Great. We'll swing by my place and pick it up." He dropped a sweet kiss on her lips and moved off.

* * *

Even as Sam started off, his thoughts went back to the subject of love. He knew people who fell in and out of love, more regularly than they came in for an oil-change.

But he wasn't one of them.

He'd fallen into his share of lust, even into serious like. But this 'ground-just-shifted-under-my-feet-feeling? Is a whole new experience. It started the first time he laid eyes on M.J.

He'd take this day off…from work, from shaving and from thinking about what to do, or not, about being in love and just enjoy it, with her.

* * *

Halfway down the steps, he heard a vehicle pull up and he mumbled,

"Why didn't I go for coffee from the beginning?"

He went to the door and saw three individuals, standing there with baggage, gaping at him. The only male in the group, stepped forward, with his hand outstretched and said,

"Kurt Hummel. You must be Sam." Sam's mouth dropped open. He caught himself and said,

"Yes, of course. You're her relatives."

He took Kurt's hand in a firm grip and moved aside, so that he and the others could come in.

Kurt turned, once they were all inside, with an excited smile on his porcelain features and said,

"Forgive my manners, these two lovely ladies are, Tina Cohen-Chang and Santana Lopez."

Sam turned to the two women, whose eyes were still trained on him and said,

"Nice to meet you. M.J's going to be so happy to see you."

"Nice to meet you too…um, has anyone ever told you, you have some really big lips, for a white dude," Santana said.

Sam was taken aback, but her comment brought Tina back from wherever she had been. She stepped forward and said,

"Pay her no attention. We can't always leave her at home. I'm Tina, and it's really nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Uhh…M.J is upstairs, let me take you to her. You can leave your bags here and I will take them up for you later."

At that, he turned and gestured for the trio to follow him.

* * *

Tina and Kurt, grabbed each other, smiling, ogling and passing signals to each other, about Sam and how hot he looks, whilst Santana rolled her eyes at them. But she too, couldn't help herself from appreciating how good he looked.

Just as they reached M.J's temporary work space, her voice sounded,

"If we drive north, I could get some…Kurt…Oh God, Tina, Santana!" She dropped everything and rushed forward to her family.

In a matter of seconds, they were embraced in a group hug, with happy tears falling all around.

Sam took that opportunity, to excuse himself. Before he left for the kitchen, he watched contentedly as the four friends hugged and kissed each other.  
 _"That's a connection, a bond…a love that goes as deep as it can ever get."_

M.J laughed, he could hear the tears in it, and saw them sparkle in the jubilant sunlight that pumped through the open door.

"What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming today? You guys look great…I've missed you, so much." Kurt held her a few inches away and said,

"We all missed you too. You have a house, and a very hot guy. I'm so happy for you."

"Crazy isn't it?"

"It's a hell of a house. And he's a hell of a guy."

She laughed and looked around for Sam. He was just coming in with a tray of mugs and hot coffee. He placed it on a corner of M.J's work station and joined her. "Sam, these are my best friends, my family."

"I know, we met downstairs."

"Would you mind postponing that drive? I want to show them the house."

"Sure. Not a problem. I'll just take my coffee on the upstairs deck and then I'll be going. It'll give you guys a chance to catch up and spend some time together."

"Thank you," M.J said. And then,

"You don't have to leave on our account, Sam," Kurt piped in.

"Yeah, you could join us," Tina said, hoping that he would.

"We would like to get to know you, too," Santana threw in. For a few seconds, everyone went silent. Santana was being nice.

"What? He seems great, for a guy with huge lips…and our dear Aretha looks happy, content and glowing. That could only mean one thing…He's…"

"Santana!" Everyone except Sam shouted.

Sam was sporting an amused look on his handsome face. He could see himself getting along with all of them, even Santana, who he suspects as having more bark than bite.

"Thank you, all, but I want this pretty lady to have some time alone with you guys first. She needs it…needs you. I can catch up with you guys later and maybe have a drink or hang out here," Sam said.

With that, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on M.J's lips, took his coffee and bade everyone good-day.

* * *

The minute he was out of sight and ear-shot, M.J was bombarded with questions and comments.

"Dear God! Does he have a brother?"

"Whew, I need to sit for a moment. He is hot!"

"I have to tell you, Wheezy, my lady loins are tingling. How is he in bed?" Poor M.J, she just shook her head and laughed.

"Let's take that tour. Yes he has a brother Tina, but he's too young for you, besides, you have a guy. Remember Mike? As for you Santana, I'm not giving you any details about Sam's performance in bed…just think of him as Thor, he can use his hammer very well."

Laughter broke out among them once again. After a few minutes, they started the tour.

* * *

Later that day, the four friends were in the kitchen chatting up a storm.

"This kitchen is amazing, Mercy-me," Kurt said.

"I really love it. And the deck is the bonus."

"Yeah," Santana said, looking around again. "This would grab you, Wheezy. The first time you saw the ocean, you fell for it. I always thought you would end up close to the ocean, but, I can see why you fell for this."

"You must have taken a million pictures from this spot," Tina stated.

"It might be two million. The town's a charmer. I'll have to take you through it. You guys could rent kayaks. I've been dying to."

Sam returned then, greeting everyone as he did. Something felt off. M.J could see it on his face. But she decided to leave it alone for the time being.

"Sam, why haven't we rented kayaks?"

"Why would I want to sit in a hole in a boat with a paddle?" Kurt and Tina snickered, and Santana, turned her head, to hide the mirth on her face.

"It's a whole new perspective."

"I like this one fine."

"For those who prefer land, there's plenty of hiking. Party pooper," she said, sticking out her tongue at him.

* * *

At some point, everyone in the room went quiet. Santana was the first to speak.

"I need to come clean with you Mer…" She paused, her eyes snapping to M.J's, to Sam's and back to M.J's.

"It's fine. Sam knows everything." Relief flooded Santana, as well as the others. Santana went on.

"We've been keeping tabs on the happenings over here…when someone is murdered near our 'sister' and she finds the body, we take more interest."

"So, you're here in case I need legal advice?"

"No, I'm here…we're here, to see you and get to know your new guy," Santana said. Kurt stepped up to M.J, held her hands and said,

"Another woman is missing. Another local woman."

"What? Who? When…? How do you know?" She whirled on Sam and said, "Did you know about this? You did…that's what that look on your face was all about."

"Simmer down. I didn't know before. I just got word."

"Missing for how long?" she asked.

"Since Friday night. She closed the restaurant, at approximately eleven forty-five. She was the last to leave and was last seen by two colleagues, who left about the same time. According to what they have said, she was supposed to drive to Olympia to spend the weekend with her sister and cousin. Apparently, her car is still in the lot and she never met her sister and cousin, or contacted them."

"She could have changed her mind," M.J began, but even as she said those words, she, herself doubted them. Sam went on.

"Her suitcase is still in the back of her car. It looks as though she was planning on driving straight there, after her shift. She hasn't been seen or heard from since. She hasn't used her credit card, sent a text or made a call."

"Who is it?" she asked, as the others observe her and Sam's interaction.

"Dana Larrier."

"Dana. The brunette?" Though she'd gone pale, M.J's voice remained steady, as she asked Sam,

"Early forties, with a round, cheerful face?"

"Yeah. She and Marcy are tight. They go way back to high school together. I think whoever killed Mindy, wasn't passing through, and didn't just grab her because he saw an opportunity. I think whoever did that, has Dana."

"I think it's a strong possibility," Santana said, looking at it from a legal perspective. M.J slowly lowered to a chair.

"She calls everyone sweetie. I noticed that when I first moved here. I'd go in for takeout and she'd say, 'I'll get that right out for you, sweetie.' Or, 'How are you doing tonight, sweetie?'" Sam drew closer to her.

"She has a daughter away at college. She's raised her mostly on her own. She's divorced, with no interest from her ex, in her daughter."

M.J turned to Sam, with an apologetic look on her face.

"I'm sorry. You've known her all your life."

"I've never known her to hurt anybody. She's nothing like Mindy. I thought they were going for a type. She's about fifteen years older, brunette, settled, steady and not he sort who'd catch your eye like Mindy," Sam said. M.J turned to her friends.

"You guys could've told me…"

"And you could've told us you found a dead body," Kurt said, cutting her off.

"Next time I find one, you'll be the first to know."

"Don't joke about it, M.J," Sam said.

"I'm not. I'm sick at the thought of it. I did everything I could, to cut all of it out of my life, to put up walls, yet still…" Turning to her friends, she said, "The chief of police knows who I am. He ran me after I found the body."

"He should, if he's doing his job right," Santana said.

"And of course, Sam knows, as I indicated earlier. You don't have to worry about what you say in front of him," M.J finished.

They all sat and chatted for another hour or so and afterwards, Tina, Santana and Kurt retired to their respective rooms, to take a well-deserved rest.

Kurt grabbed her in a hug, when the two of them were alone and said,

"I really like Sam. He's good for you and there's no doubt that he loves you. See what I've been saying to you…he knows all about you and your past and he's still here. I'm so glad you gave him a chance."

Guilt was written all over M.J's face. She couldn't hide it even if she tried. Kurt picked up on it and said,

"Oh my gaga, you did, didn't you…you tried to get rid of him. Mercy-me, you've got some explaining to do. I…"

"Not now Kurt. You need your beauty rest, to keep looking as fabulous as you do," She said cutting him off.

He wagged a finger at her, shook his head and disappeared into his room. M.J released a loud exhale and bolted for her room, where Sam was waiting.

* * *

Out on the deck, Sam beckoned her over and patted his lap.

"Can we just sit her for a minute?"

"Okay. You alright?"

"I have to hope that this isn't happening to her…Dana. She's one of the best people I know, and she and Marcy…I need to call Marcy. She must've heard. We'd all have heard, most likely, but we had that out-of-town gig. She'll want to talk to me, but I need to sit here for a minute first."

M.J took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips and lightly kissed it.

"Well, we'll just sit here, for as long as you want, then you should go and see her. It's better than calling."

"You're right, but I'm not leaving you here awake, to walk around outside alone, while the others are napping. Not until we know what the hell's happening."

She wanted to argue and say, she would stay indoors, and occupy herself with work, but Sam knew her. Her property wasn't fenced in, and anyone could wander in the yard. This wasn't the time to argue.

"Okay, I'll go with you. Just let me leave a message for the others, so that they'll know I'm with you."

"Fine. Let me know when you're done."

At that, she held his face, looked deeply into his green eyes, holding his gaze for a moment and then kissed him. She felt it. More strongly than she had before and it left her feeling light-hearted and deliriously happy on the inside. There was no denying it. She was in love with Sam Evans.

* * *

 **I hope this makes sense. Until next time, much love to you.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you for your kind words, your spot-on reviews and for continuing this journey with me. I appreciate it more than you know.**

 **This is a very long chapter and the last part is a bit disturbing.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own 'The Obsession.'**

* * *

"Are you sure you want me to go with you? I don't want Marcy to feel uncomfortable," M.J told Sam.

"If it seems like she is, I'll kick you out."

"Tough, but fair. Just let me change and fix up a little and we can go."

"What for?" He held her hand and pulled her out of the room, heading for the steps. "We're not going to a party."

"I don't have any make-up on."

"You're beautiful." He caught the wide-eyed, surprised blink and aimed her down the stairs. "What? You've got a mirror, you don't need me telling you."

"It's nice to hear."

"You don't wear make-up most of the time anyway."

"When I go out, I try to at least, make a minimal effort. I don't even have my wallet."

"I do. I'll drive."

He opened the door for her, helped her in and went around to the driver's side.

"This is the first time I can remember getting into a seat after a woman and having my knees hit my ears. You've got legs baby, but they're short."

He adjusted the seat back, before glancing over at her and seeing her frowning at him.

"What?"

"Have you ever in your life, waited five minutes for a woman with shorter legs, to get ready and grab her purse?"

"You hardly ever have a purse. I admire that."

"That wasn't the question."

"Yeah, yeah, I've waited. I think women just like having guys wait. And the fact is, most of them could work a couple hours at it and still, not look like you. So why wait?" She huffed, and pulled on her seatbelt.

"That's one hell of a compliment, mixed in with amazing arrogance. I can't decide whether to be seriously flattered or seriously annoyed on behalf of women everywhere."

"Listen baby, you're not like women everywhere."

"I'm not sure what that means, but I think you consider it another compliment. In any case, give me a clear signal, if I should leave you and Marcy alone. Where does she live?"

"Over the bar. She has an apartment up there, actually, she owns the building."

"She owns the building?" Because she understood Sam, a bit better now, she took a leap. "The two of you own the building."

"It's an investment and since she lives up there, we don't have to worry about a tenant, bitching about the noise from the bar. I don't know what I'm going to say to her."

"You'll know. You've got a way about you."

* * *

He parked and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, as he studied the building.

"She's in the bar. Lights are on down there and we don't open until seven on Sundays."

When he got out, he went around to M.J's side and helped her out, before she could get the door opened.

Digging into is pocket, he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the bar door. Music blared out of the sound system, hard-driving rock, with screaming guitars, M.J couldn't identify.

She'd never been in the bar with houselights on, full. It looked bigger, she realized, especially with the chairs upended on the tables and the booths empty of patrons.

In snug, cropped jeans and a black tank that showed off, toned arms and shoulders, Marcy attacked the floor with some sort of mop.

Because he was directly beside her, M.J heard Sam mutter, "Shit," before he strode to the bar, went behind it and turned down the music.

What happened next was comical to M.J, but she dared not laugh. Marcy snapped up straight, hefted the mop like a bat, then lowered it again, when she saw Sam.

"You'll blow your eardrums," he said.

"Rock is meant to be loud."

"Why are you down here doing Jesse's job?"

"Because I want it done right for a change. And why aren't you up on the bluff, trying to get into that hot piece of chocolate's pants?"

"Because I brought her with me."

Marcy turned and caught sight of M.J and hissed out a tired breath. Before she could say anything, M.J held up a hand and said,

"I'm not tender, neither am I insulted."

"Hold on to that one Sam," Marcy said, winking at M.J. She turned to Sam and said, "Okay, nice of you to stop by, but I've got work to finish. I ought to close down for a week, get out the whips and chains, slap some ass and get the crew to clean from top to bottom. If you're not on them every second, they'll give these floors a swipe and consider it done."

* * *

By the time she'd finished, her words tumbled together, rushed and breathless, with her arms pumping like pistons on the mop.

Sam just stood there for a moment, dragging his hand through his blonde hair. He walked over to her, wrestled the mop away and wrapped his arms around her.

"I need to finish. Damn it! I need to finish."

"Come on Marcy." She struggled against him for another moment, and then gripped the back of his shirt in her fists.

"Sam. I'm so scared. Dana. Where is she? What's happening to her? How can this be happening?"

When she begun to weep, he just held on.

* * *

Not sure of her role, M.J decided to make herself useful.

Quietly, she went behind the bar, and started studying the hot beverage machine. She checked its supplies and opted for coffee, because Marcy didn't strike her as the sort of person, who'd like tea.

She found mugs and kept herself busy, as Marcy composed herself.

* * *

"I don't know what to do. I need something to do," Marcy said.

"Right now, we're going to sit down." As Sam steered her to a booth, M.J softly called out,

"I'm making coffee." Swiping at her tears, Marcy turned around and said,

"That machine's complicated."

"She's good with things like that, Marcy. Sit down," Sam said.

"If she breaks it, you've bought it," She mumbled and then, "I'd rather have a whiskey."

"Irish coffee, then. Sam?"

"Just a ginger ale, babe."

As she sat, Marcy snatched napkins from the holder and blew her nose.

"The police don't know anything. The chief came around here last night, on the off chance she'd decided to stay home, or was with me. Nobody knows anything about it. Nobody's seen her or heard from her."

"Sad, but true."

"She's been talking about this trip for weeks…made me want to stuff a sock in her mouth. She tried to get me to go, just about nagged me brainless. I've got nothing against a couple of days at the spa, but her sister's a pain in the ass. If I had said, I'd go with her…if I'd been with her…"

"That's bullshit Marcy."

"It's not." Her eyes filled to the brim again. "It's not. I'd gone over there and picked her up."

"And maybe you'd be the one, no one's seen or heard from,"

"Now that's a load of hog manure." After she'd wiped her tears, she balled the napkins up and said, "I can handle myself. Dana…she's just soft."

M.J appeared then, at the table, with a glass of Irish coffee, expertly topped with whipped cream and a glass of ginger ale.

"I'll just be outside…it'll give you two some more privacy."

"You're fine right here. I know what you said, but I'll say this anyway. I'm sorry about the in-your-pants remark. It was rude."

"Well, he's been in them a few times now, so it wasn't entirely rude."

Marcy let out a bark of laughter, which left her eyes watery around the edges. And Sam, he just sat there smirking, with lots of naughty thoughts running through his head.

"Dear God, I didn't expect that. Get a drink and sit with us," Marcy said.

"Alright. But…I'm going to say something first. The only blame is on the person who took her. We can always say _if I'd done this, if I'd been there, or if I hadn't done that,_ but it doesn't change what is. The only person who could change what is, is the one who took her."

* * *

Whilst Marcy stared into her coffee, allowing those words to sink in, M.J went to get herself a Coke.

"She's my closest friend," Marcy quietly said. "Since high school. We didn't have a thing in common, but we became friends anyway. I stood up for her when she married that asshole, just like she stood up for me when I married James. And when he died, I don't know how I'd have gotten through it without her."

She paused for a beat, sighing, and then sniffled.

"And she told me not to marry the stoner. But when I did, she stood up for me again." She tasted the coffee, arched her eyebrows at M.J and said, "This is damn good Irish coffee."

"I learned that years ago," M.J replied, and slid into the booth next to Sam. A ghost of a smile crossed Marcy's features but quickly disappeared.

"He's had her…whoever that bastard is…since Friday night. Word's gotten out, on what was done to Mindy. Dana…" Reaching over, Sam closed his hand over hers.

"Don't do that. You'll go crazy if you do that."

"I drove all over hell and back, last night. Just driving, looking for her, for…something, with my baseball bat and my .32."

"Jesus, Marcy. You should've called me."

"I nearly did." She turned her hand over, and linked her fingers with his. "Who else do I call when I hit a wall? Not that I often hit one, that I can't bust through on my own. You'll find that out if you stick with this one," she said to M.J. "If you hit a wall or your back's to one, this is the guy you'd want with you," she finished.

"Aww, come on Marcy," Sam piped up.

"She should know that you're not just a pretty face."

"I've seen prettier. I've had prettier," M.J said, earning another bark of laughter, liked she'd hoped, from Marcy, and a scowl from Sam. She went on. "You need some art on the walls in here, Marcy."

"It's a bar."

"It's a good bar. I'm not talking frilly or fussy, just fern-bar art. There's one coming in of Sam's band, but I've got one of him, a sunrise silhouette that I edited, so that his green eyes would stand out. It'd work in here and I'll give it to you, if you like it. It'd mean exposure for me."

"You're not going to put me up on a wall," Sam huffed. Marcy arched her eyebrows again.

"I will, if I like it. It's my bar."

"It's half mine."

"So, I'll hang it in my half." She gave his hand a squeeze, then a light slap, and then went back to her coffee. "You've settled my nerves, the both of you, and I'm grateful."

"You should get out of here. You can come with us." She shook her head at Sam, smiling a little.

"When I'm this worked up, I clean, but I'll finish up calmer than I was. If you hear anything…at all…about where she is, you need to let me know."

"I will."

"Thank you. Go on, I'm alright now."

"If you need me for anything, call me."

"I will Sam. I'm going to hope, I hear they find her, and she's okay. I'm going to hold on to that."

When they left her, she went right back to her mopping.

* * *

Since they were on the road, M.J had Sam take her to the market. She was very grateful they had limited Sunday hours.

Inside, she gladly picked up what was needed, along with some other items, to make her friends their favorite meal.

Every local in the market, had something to say about Dana, or would stop Sam, to ask what he knew.

M.J didn't take a clear, easy breath, until they were on the outside again.

"I should've foreseen that, and made do with whatever I had at home," M.J said, as she sat back in the seat, with her stomach in knots and an on-coming headache. "It must be so hard…harder on you, more than me…to hear all of that talk…the questions and the speculations," she finished.

"Everyone who lives here, knows her, so they are worried."

"Maybe the chief will have something, anything to add."

* * *

A while later, they pulled up at the house, and it was still quiet.

They carried the groceries inside, straight to the kitchen. M.J got out a bottle of wine and said to him,

"I'm about to start some major cooking. Cleaning does the trick, but I lean towards cooking, whenever I'm upset or stressed."

"Lucky me. I was going to head out, when your friends wake, to give you guys more time to catch up, but you bought pork chops."

"You bought them, and everything else in these bags," she corrected.

"A person should contribute, wherever they can, plus, I like pork chops."

"Do you like stuffed pork chops Mediterranean style?"

"Probably."

"Good, because that's what we're having, along with roasted herbed potatoes, sautéed asparagus, pretzel bread and vanilla bean crème brulee."

"I'm definitely staying for dinner."

"Then I suggest you clear out."

"Give me a job."

"A kitchen job?"

"Definitely not a kitchen job." She looked at him.

 _"He needs to work off the worry too."_

"Over at the store, they're holding a table and six chairs, for me. I was going to ask your dad to pick them up and take them to your mom, but if you collect them, bring them here and clean them up, we can have an actual table, to eat this magnificent meal on. And don't say you don't want to leave me here alone, while everyone is sleeping. I have an alarm system, a brown belt and an excellent set of Japanese kitchen knives."

"You'll keep the doors locked until I get back."

"It pains me, as it's a nice evening and I like the doors open, but for a dining room table, I'll keep them locked. Promise"

"Keep your phone on you."

"I'll keep my phone on me. Scouts' honor. Do you know how to lower the back seats in my car, for the cargo area?"

"I'm a mechanic, M.J. I think I can handle it. Let Cecil know I'm coming. It'll save time."

He hauled her in for a kiss, then pointed his finger at her and said, "Remember, you promised."

M.J made the call, shoved the phone in her pocket, rubbed her hands together and said, "Let's get cooking."

* * *

Minutes later, she was completely focused. It cleared her mind, the process, the textures, the scents and the colors, pushed the terrible thoughts and worries away.

She had dough rising, potatoes in the oven and the crème brulee nearly ready, to go into the oven, when she heard a small noise.

Her heart tripped for a beat, and she glanced at the chef's knife on her cutting board, but she ordered herself, to stick to the task at hand. She was rewarded when she saw Sam bringing the chairs onto the deck.

* * *

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, tucked into her waistband, she walked over and opened the doors.

"I almost made him take a blood oath, these were the chairs you wanted. He swore to me they were."

"He's right. They are." Sam looked at them and scowled at them. The faded, ripped, ugly-patterned seats and the scuffed wood.

"Why?" he asked.

"They're going to be adorable."

"How?"

"Re-upholstered with this fabric I've picked out and painted."

"Are you going to paint these?"

"Your mom will. I've retired. They can be ugly until she takes them. I've got rags and wood cleaner. We can make them presentable for one meal."

"They look like presentable kindling to me, but it's your deal."

"What about the table?"

"I get the table…it needs a little work, but it's a good piece."

"I meant, do you need any help getting it out of the car?"

"I'm good. I'll be back in a minute," he said giving the chairs a final frown.

"I'll get the stuff you need."

* * *

She got the supplies out of the laundry room, filled a bucket with water, and carted it out in time, to see him coming back up the steps, behind a forest of lilacs, in a tall, cobalt blue pitcher.

"There." He set them on the table, on the deck. "I brought you flowers and something to put them in." She was at a loss for words. She stared at them, then back at him.

"I…"

"Alright, I stole the flowers, but I bought the pitcher."

"It's…they're…they're perfect. Thank you."

He stood there, looking a bit scruffy, and scowling at the chairs, he obviously considered a waste of time and money…and she had to swallow twice. He looked hot and sexy as hell.

"This better be some dinner," he mumbled. After taking one of the rags from her, he dropped it in the bucket. Noting that she was still there, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I've just got some things going on inside."

"Go on and deal with that. I'll just stay here and clean up these butt-ugly chairs."

* * *

She went inside, grabbing the bottle of wine on the way and took it with her, straight to her room.

Her heart was tripping again. In fact, it seemed to be stumbling and staggering at the same time. This was a new sensation. It wasn't one she'd experienced before. It wasn't a panic attack…at least she didn't think so, though she definitely felt considerable panic.

Sam had walked up the steps, with lilacs in a blue pitcher and set them down unceremoniously. Stolen flowers in a blue pitcher, carried in big callused hands. And she'd fallen deeper in love.

It couldn't be that simple. But it was.

She didn't have to, have felt it all before, to know what tripped and stumbled inside of her. She breathed in, breathed out, took a good glug of wine and pondered her next move.

* * *

Minutes later, she stood, she had pork chops to stuff.

She heard Sam chuckling, probably at some inside joke about her chairs again.

She walked downstairs, and took a peek outside. She saw the lilacs…so lush and so sweet, and she saw him, working hard at the task before him.

She had to press the heel of her palm to her heart, and order it to behave.

After composing herself, she pulled out her phone, angled it and took several shots of the flowers.

* * *

By the time she'd begun making the stuffing, she heard Kurt's voice and laughter following. In a matter of seconds, her three best friends were in the kitchen with her.

Tina went over to her and hugged her from behind, laying her head on her shoulder. Santana passed her, going to the fridge, and playfully palmed her breast, making her and the others roll their eyes, while Kurt walked up to her and kissed her cheek.

"Did you all have a nice nap?" she asked. A chorus of,

"Yes, sure did and muy magnifico," echoed around the room.

"What are we having for dinner, or do I need to ask?" Kurt said.

"You don't. You know it's your favorite."

"Ooh, I miss your cooking, so much. No offense Kurt, but you know our Mercy can throw down."

"None taken. I miss her cooking too."

"Need any help?" Santana asked.

"No thank you. You are not here to do anything, but have a good time and a little relaxation. Besides, I've got it covered."

"Okay. Where is salamander lips? You didn't blow him off for us, did you?"

"Oh God. Santana! If you must know, Sam's out on the deck, doing some manly work. Quit calling him those names," M.J playfully said.

"He doesn't mind. I can tell. Some people would kill for lips like those. I bet you like them," she said with a naughty smirk on her face.

"Oookay. Moving on. We need a day of shopping. When can you swing it?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah. We do…that reminds me. Kurt and I brought you some stuff. Maybe we can have a fashion show later," Tina threw in, excitement clearly in her voice.

"Yeah, and if Trouty mouth is here, you can model them for him…privately," Santana stated. That naughty smile was back on her face, making M.J wonder what she was up to.

"Maybe I will, but definitely yes to our fashion show."

* * *

Just then, Sam entered the doorway of the kitchen, shirtless and sweaty.

"The table looks fine. The chairs are clean, but they're still ugly."

Kurt and Tina's mouths dropped opened. Their faces were flushed and their eyes were glued to Sam's fabulous physique. Santana shamelessly pulled out her phone and unsubtly took a photo.

M.J and Sam, were oblivious to all of their reactions. His eyes were on her and hers were on his.

"The charm is simply yet to be released," she replied to him.

"Whatever. I'm going to want that food, as soon as it is ready. It smells good."

 _"And you look good,"_ she thought.

 _"Dear God! He looks delicious,"_ Kurt thought.

 _"Those abs. I could lick them clean…for hours…M-mike. Oh God! Mike. Mike is my boyfriend. Mike is my boyfriend…."_ Tina thought.

"What up Evans?" Santana asked, bringing the other two out of their daytime reverie and drawing Sam's attention to all of them.

He calmly and casually, looked up, his face flushed and acknowledged each one of them. Turning back to Santana, he replied,

"Not much. Good to see you guys again. Did you have a nice rest?"

"I think I can speak for everyone, and say, yes we did. So…are you done out there? Do you need any help?"

"Umm…I'm almost finished, but thank you for offering your help." He turned his eyes on M.J, making her heart flip inside of her chest. "If you need me, I'll be…"

 _"Yes. Yes. Boy do I need you,"_ her thoughts screamed.

"Okay. The food's about an hour off."

"That's fine." He turned to the others and gave a small wave, then disappeared.

"Whew! I hope the two of you get it in tonight. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife," Santana stated.

For once, everyone agreed with her, even M.J, although she didn't voice it.

She finished stuffing the chops and slid them into the oven. Kurt and Tina helped her to clean up, while Santana wandered out on the deck to see what Sam was doing.

* * *

Dinner was going great.

The food was fantastic and the conversation was light, witty and all around good.

"Why did you buy such crappy chairs," Kurt asked.

"They won't be crappy when they're fixed."

"If you say so. I like this table. Is it barn wood?"

"It is."

"Built to last."

"I like how the cleaner brought out the grain," Tina said.

"It just needed some tending. There were dings and scratches," Sam said.

"It's called character. And Sam's mom said she could fix anything that needs fixing."

The conversation continued to flow, with everyone having a great time.

* * *

About three-quarters of an hour into dinner, a knock sounded. M.J started to rise, but Sam's hand on hers and one look from him, made her halt her efforts.

"I'll get it."

He dropped a kiss on her cheek and moved off. Her three friends didn't miss the exchange. The three locked eyes and a quick, silent conversation, passed between them.

* * *

At the door, the chief of police stood, looking apologetic.

"Sam."

"Chief. Has there been a break in the case?"

"Not exactly. Can I come in?"

"Sure. M.J is out on the deck, with her closest friends. I'll take you to her."

* * *

The four friends were laughing when Sam and the chief entered the doorway of the kitchen and stepped out on the deck.

M.J stood, her heart beating fast, and greeted the chief.

"Hey there Chief Michaels. Nice to see you again."

"Same here, Miss M.J." He looked around at the others and one by one M.J introduced them. Afterwards, the chief said, "I don't want to spoil your dinner, but I think you and Sam deserved to know if anything changes, even the smallest of details." He hesitated for a beat, looking around again. M.J spoke up.

"You can say anything in front of my friends. They're the closest thing I have to family. They've been with me through thick and thin and they've been keeping an eye on what's going on in the Cove. Santana here, is a lawyer. She usually explains any legal terms or ramifications, I might not understand."

He gave her a long look, then nodded.

"I can't tell you more than you don't already know. All indications are, Dana was abducted from the parking lot shortly before midnight, on Friday. Her car was locked and hasn't moved since she parked it, when she began her shift at four. Three other employees worked until closing time. One, Lacy Barrows, came out the back of the building, alone a few minutes before Dana, Grace Forrester and Brandon Upton. Routinely, Lacy parks in the same section of the lot, as most employees do, but her car was in the shop. Yours Sam."

"Yeah. She drove in on a flat, just after I'd closed and had four tyres as bald as my uncle Jack. I wasn't going to let her drive around on them, so I made her a deal. I told her I'd work the price of the tyres down, take her to work, and all she had to do, was to call her father to pick her up. She was going to walk, but after what happened to Mindy, I wasn't about to have her walk home or to a friend's alone at midnight."

"She's lucky you provide such personal customer service. You saved her life."

"I've known her since she was…wait a minute." Sam straightened to his full height, from slouching against the rail. "Are you saying 'he' was looking to take her? 'He' was waiting for Lacy to walk to her car?"

"It's possible. In fact, more than possible. She's younger, blonde, and more like the first victim, unlike Dana. When I spoke to her, she said her father wasn't waiting when she first came out. She was alone out there for a good twenty seconds. She said she got nervous and thought about going back in. She thought it was because, you'd spook her about walking and being alone. Then her father came, and she didn't think about it anymore."

"Wow! You said Dana came out with Grace and Brandon."

"Just after Lacy's father picked her up. And they walked off together…Grace and Brandon are in a relationship, so they parted together, leaving Dana."

"You think he took Dana, because she was there?" M.J asked.

"I believe so. I believe the same person that took Mindy, took Dana. I believe he's an opportunist…he saw an opportunity with Mindy and he saw one with Dana and took it. He had to be in that lot, lying in wait. Which tells me he'd observed the routine of that restaurant and selected his target. Circumstances caused him to miss out on that opportunity, so he took the next."

"Christ," Sam said, and turned away, staring hard over the water.

"There's a young woman and her parents, who are never going to forget a set of bald tyres, or the man who demanded a promise. I've already looked into crimes alike, but I'm going to look again, to narrow the parameters and add in missings. I have deputies, and rangers, checking rental houses and cabins, within a twenty-five-mile radius."

"Because he needs a place," M.J stated.

 _"Like a cellar…an old root cellar deep in the woods."_

"Yeah, but I'm not discounting a local, although my firm opinion is, it's an outsider and our low crime rate helps support it. But that won't stop me from taking a harder look at individuals in the area."

"No one believes it's someone they know, someone they're close to. Until it is." M.J said.

"Well, I like to think that I'm a good cop and not so territorial I can't seek help from outside. I'm doing all I can do, for now. But I've reached out to someone I trust, who I've worked with before. He's getting me names on the rentals, owners and tenants. We'll run those in addition to the knock-on-doors. I'm sorry. I wish there was more."

"You came. You didn't have to. And now we have a heads-up on what's happening. That's more than I expected. Thank you," M.J said.

* * *

After the meal and the fancy coffee M.J made in her fancy machine, the three out-of-state friends retired to their rooms, to privately chat with their partners. Sam rose and said,

"I'm going to head out." M.J was surprised.

"Oh."

"You've got stuff. I've got stuff." _And with three friends sleeping down the hall, she'd be safe._ "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, but…" He pulled her to her feet and into a hard, hot kiss. Maybe it was a little like marking his territory, but he wasn't sorry about it.

"Thanks for dinner. I'm going to check on Marcy. Later."

Another peck, and he was gone.

* * *

M.J was just rinsing out her mug, when Santana, entered the kitchen.

"Hey Chica. Your blonde Adonis isn't here?"

"No. He had to leave."

"Oh. Tina and Lady Hummel are still yapping about the fashion show. Are you still up for it? Or are you pining behind Sam?"

"I'm not pining, Santana…I just…I've gotten used to him sleeping next to me, that's all."

"It's that serious?"

"More serious than I thought I'd want and more serious than I'm sure I can handle. But he's…" She wasn't sure she could explain it, to Santana or herself. "He makes me feel more than I thought I ever could, or would. He figured out who I was. He had that book on his wall of books…you have to see his wall of books, I have pictures."

"Check out my shocked face," Santana said, making her laugh.

"Anyway, I didn't hide my reaction to the book as well as I thought and Sam figured it out. But you know what San? He didn't say anything to me, or changed toward me. He didn't tell anyone, not even his parents. Do you know what that means to me?"

"Yeah. And it goes a long way with me…and the others. I like him. We all do, and I know that matters to you. We see how he is with you. That exchange tonight, tells us your safety is paramount…and he knows how to calm you. He brings out the Mercedes we all know and love."

She didn't miss the way M.J flinched at the use of her given name. Santana placed her hand over hers and said.

"If you don't let your past die, it won't let you live. Mercedes is your name. Do not fear it. It's just a name…one that I happen to love almost as much as I love its owner."

A watery smile blossomed on her face. Santana was right. Before the nightmare, which her father created, she actually loved her name. It was unique, like her.

"Thank you, San. I love you so much."

"Right back at you. I love seeing you happy. And I know Sam is mostly responsible for that."

"He is. It was a shock to the system. He makes me, or helps me, to think beyond the moment. I'd gotten too much in the habit of only right now. I like thinking about tomorrow."

"That's great Chica. Now, let's go shut those two up and put on a fashion show."

"I hear you."

* * *

'He' waited until just after two in the morning, to drive the quiet roads to the woods, near the bluff.

'He' parked on the shoulder of the road, scanning the area. They probably had patrols out at this hour, looking for the likes of him, but in his considerable experience, it is far too early in the game for it, especially in this two-bit town, with its half-assed police force.

But this wouldn't take long. He had her wrapped up in the standard sheet of plastic. Trial and error had proven this method, worked best.

He had to put some muscle into hauling her out and up, over his shoulder, fireman style, but he took pride in being stronger than he looked, because she was a heftier package, compared to the one before.

All in all. She'd been a disappointment. No fight or sass in her, not after the first couple of hours anyway.

It just cut into his fun, when they didn't scream or beg and stopped fighting. And she'd gone downhill so fast, he'd nearly killed her out of sheer boredom.

Too much like that scrawny bitch he'd grabbed up in Godforsaken Kansas, when he couldn't get the one he'd had his eye on. Or that fat-ass in Louisville. Or… No point in dwelling on past mistakes, he assured himself, as he shifted the deadweight on his shoulder and used the hunter's light on his hat to light the track.

He just had to stop repeating those mistakes and remember, patience is a virtue.

* * *

He'd already scope out the area, using M.J's website pictures as a guide, as he gratefully dropped Dana's body between the track and a nurse log.

With practiced moves, he rolled the body out of the plastic, and studied it, while he folded the sheet of plastic to take with him.

 _"Waste not, want not."_

He took out his phone, switched on the camera and took his last souvenir pictures of Dana Larrier. Then he walked away without giving the woman he'd killed another thought.

She was the past and he had his path set for the future.

* * *

He cruised the road, just far enough, to bring the house on the bluff, with its vast silhouette against a star-struck sky into view.

 _"Sleep well, Mercedes. I'll be seeing you soon and we're going to have some fun."_

* * *

 **I debated whether to cut this chapter in half or not. Laziness won out. I hope it was worth it. Much love to you.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you for your continued interest in this story. I have not forgotten the others, I just wanted to get ahead on this.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own 'The Obsession' (Nora Roberts does).**

* * *

It was a sparkling Monday afternoon, when a young couple, from Spokane, out with their baby, found the body of Dana Larrier.

Within minutes, police chief Michaels, was standing over the body of a woman he'd known for over three decades.

"I was hoping it wouldn't end this way," he said to one of his deputies.

"Me too. I'm so sorry for your loss, Chief. I know that the two of you go way back."

"She's everyone's loss." He rubbed his hands over his face and shook it off. He was determined to do his best for her. "Bound and gagged, and naked like Mindy. Her wounds are worse. Looks like he cut and beat her more severely."

"He may be escalating. Or, it may be frustration, because she wasn't his first choice."

"Yeah. Could be," the chief replied. "He brushed out any footprints he might've left. You can see how he stirred up the dirt and the pine needles. He's being careful. He had to carry her to this spot, most likely from the road…down the track. She's easily one-fifty, so he's got some muscle," he finished.

Careful not to touch or disturb anything, the deputy crouched down, under the chief's supervision, and studied the wounds and the position of the body.

"She's not posed and there was no attempt to cover her or bury her. No remorse, nothing symbolic. He was simply finished. He just dumped the body here and walked away."

"She didn't mean anything to him," the chief surmised.

"I think you're right Chief. Mindy was laid out differently. The way her arms reached out…and he left her shoes. She was more important…maybe a surrogate. She was younger, and attractive."

"Like Lacy would've been."

"Yes."

As the deputy went about his work, even taking pictures, the chief had to resist the urge to cover her. Once again, he shook it off. He looked into the woods, into the deepening green, as spring slid into summer.

"We'll get this taped off and do what we have to do. Once we do that here, I'll go see her sister and her daughter."

* * *

M.J understood a process came with death. And with murder, that process became official. But she'd be damned, if she let Sam hear about his friend, through a process.

She didn't see him through the main opening of the garage, so she walked inside, and saw one of his crew, putting coins in the soda machine.

"Is Sam around?"

"Yeah. He's in the machine shop…straight back…to the right. You can't miss it."

"Thank you."

She picked her way through and found that the guy was right. She couldn't miss. Sam was sitting behind an engine on a stand, with a wrench in his grease-smeared hands. She could hear him mumbling to himself.

"Bearings shot to shit and crankshaft shot to shit." He took off another part, scowled at it and tossed it into a tray with a dismissive thump. "No wonder it's got rod knock."

"Sam." She spoke quietly, but he heard her voice over the clanging, the thumping and the music. The moment he saw her face, grief clouded his eyes.

"Ah hell."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said. She started toward him with her hands out, but he pushed back on the stool and held up his own.

"Don't. I've got grease all over me."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

With sharp, angry moves, he took up a rag and rubbed it over his forearms and his hands. Then he tossed it down again, and walked to a small, wall-hung sink, that had seen its share of action.

With his back to her, he poured some sort of powder on his hands, and dry-scrubbed them with a brush.

"Where did they find her?"

"I'm not sure. I'm sorry. The chief called about half-an-hour ago and said they had. In a wooded area, was all he'd say. He was in a hurry to get there. I didn't want you to hear…to just hear…" He nodded and kept scrubbing.

"I knew it last night. If they hadn't found her by last night…but until they do, you have to believe there's a chance"

He worked the powder up to his forearms, then turned on the water.

"I need to tell Marcy."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Not this time."

That stung, but she understood it didn't come from a place of rejection.

He yanked the paper towels from the wall-unit, dried off and then tossed them into a big, wide-mouthed bin.

"I'm so sorry Sam. I wish there was something I could do."

"You did it. You came to tell me." When she stepped towards him again, he looked at his hands.

"They're clean enough," she said and moved into them.

"I guess they'll do." He gripped her, tight and held her in silence, while the workday banged around them.

"Stay with Marcy as long as you need…as long as she needs. But let me know if you're staying in town."

"I'll be coming back, but I don't know when. I want you to stay close to your friends." He drew her back, looking directly into her eyes. "Stay inside and lock everywhere. Tell me you'll do that."

"I will. Don't worry about me, just take care of Marcy."

"I'll do that…but don't tell me not to worry about you…because I do and I will. I have to deal with some things here…I'll need someone to cover for a few hours over, and then I'll do that."

He rested his forehead on hers, relishing in the comfort of her presence. Moments later, he brought his hands to rest on the sides of her neck, and used his thumbs to lift her chin, where he could look right into her eyes. He held her gaze for a few seconds and then he kissed her…deeply and passionately, holding back nothing.

* * *

When M.J got home, she found her friends in the kitchen, preparing lunch.

The looks on their faces, told her they had heard of the discovery and was obviously speaking about it.

"How did Sam take the news?" Tina asked. M.J sighed. She felt drained.

"Better than I expected, but, I think on the inside, he's devastated. It's going to be hard for him to break the news to Marcy…if she hasn't already heard."

"Chica, you know they found the body just west of the bluff, right?" Santana asked.

"No. I didn't…"

"Same as the other victim…on a Friday night, and dumped in the forest. It's all over the net." M.J shuddered.

"You can't go walking there anymore. You can find lots of other places and things to take photos of. Until they find him, no more walking in the forest," Kurt stated earnestly.

"I won't. Don't worry."

 _"In my forest. At the foot of my bluff. It's remote, he could slip through the dark with no one to see. Killers like remote places…"_ she thought.

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. Like all of the others before him, this insane creep's murderous rampage, will come to an end. Let's shift focus for a while and talk about how sexy you looked in that pink romper," Santana said.

"Ooh yeah! The dress…that ribbed surplice dress. Sam is gonna lose his shit, when he see's you in that, Mercy," Tina added.

"Don't forget the Maxi dress, with the M-slit. Diva, that one was made for you…but now that you have a guy in your life, I say it was made for him," Kurt threw in.

"For once I agree with Lady Hummel. My guess is, if Trouty see's you in that, these two will definitely have to make you more, because it's going to end up on the floor in pieces," Santana said. M.J shook her head as she watched and listened to her friends talk smack.

"Are all of your minds in the gutter?" A chorus of "Yes," sounded, making her laugh.

"You guys are crazy. I love the clothes and I'm sure, at some point, I'll get a chance to wear them. Now...it's time for you all to be in the spotlight. I want to hear every juicy detail about what's going on with the people in your lives. Starting with you Santana."

A broad smile blossomed on Santana's face, as she got ready to divulge, said details.

The four friends chatted happily for almost three hours. Giving M.J an insight into their blossoming love lives. It left her wanting to meet their partners, as soon as it could be arranged and get to know them better.

* * *

Later on in the evening, they were all sat out on the lower deck, talking about anything and everything. But most of the conversation, stayed focused on the recent photos M.J had taken.

Her three friends were fascinated with the band's pictures and the ones with Sam on the upper deck.

M.J's face remained flushed for those few hours, as her three friends...especially Santana, spoke candidly about the men in the photos. In her estimation, Sam had the biggest 'man-tool' of the lot, with Noah coming in second.

Tina yawned, setting off a chain reaction with the others. After a few minutes more, they all decided to retire to their rooms.

"So it's all settled? Shopping trip tomorrow and a bit of sightseeing?"

"Definitely," M.J said. "I need a little fun, to throw off this dismal feeling, I'm under," she finished.

A naughty smile graced Santana's features. She playfully slapped M.J's bottom and said,

"The fun starts when the Greek God gets here. I recommend that type of fun anytime, any day, anywhere and especially, anyhow."

M.J threw her hands in the air, resignedly.

"I don't know how Brittany makes it with you. Is that all you think about?" The shameless Latina answered,

"Yes. And I take my own advice. I live for fun."

At that, they shared a laugh and trotted upstairs to their rooms.

* * *

In bed, M.J was laying awake, with thoughts of Sam on her mind. She was hoping to have heard something from him already.

Her thoughts drifted to Marcy next. She felt sorry for her. Moreover, she felt sorry for everything that's happened.

This monster, whoever he is, had to be a copycat killer. There was no way her father had been released or had escaped. That would have been the topic of every talk-show, in every newspaper, on every TV station, wherever possible.

There would have been sightings and although Uncle Burt and Auntie Carole, now lived on another continent, they would've informed her. Or probably kicked up a stink, to get him back where he belongs…behind bars.

It couldn't be him. It just couldn't.

* * *

The sound of footsteps on the stairs, caught her attention. _Sam._

She stood, with an apprehensive look on her face and went to meet him.

When she saw him, her heart went out to him. He looked tired and a bit defeated, tinge with anger. Cautiously, she asked,

"How's Marcy?" He inhaled deeply and exhaled audibly.

"She took it hard. Really hard." Once again, he blew out a breath, laced with exhaustion. "But she pulled it together, to talk to Dana's daughter. She's over there now. Did you hear anything else from the chief?"

"No. I've had to stop myself from calling him. Lucky my friends are here. Or, I might've gone over to the police station and made a fool of myself."

He looked at her as if she had said something foreign, and then, she remembered their conversation from earlier.

"I just feel like, if we knew something, it would start to make sense," she finished. He sat on the bed with his head down, and his fists clenching.

"Her daughter…you don't know her…she's inconsolable. I wasn't doing any good over there, so I got out of the way. She and Marcy are better off huddling up together."

"Santana and the others said she was found in the forest…over there." Eyes hard, Sam nodded.

"Somewhere in that area…and too damn close to here. Like Mindy."

"Likely for the same reason. It's out of town, hardly any houses and hardly any traffic on the road, or the water, depending on how he travels," M.J said.

"That's probably what it is…all it is. But if what the chief says has weight, and Lacy was the actual target, he has a type. Right? Young, attractive, friendly, and sassy. You're all of that."

"Well I can promise you this, I know better than any young, attractive, friendly and sassy woman in this town, how to take care of myself. I promise you Sam, I won't take unnecessary chances and I'll always take sensible precautions. I'll also point out, that both women he killed, lived or worked in town. I think he stalks them, or at least watch their routines. I don't have a routine…and you have enough on your mind, without worrying about me."

"Nothing that's on my mind, is more important than you," he said.

He turned to her, and took her breath away, with one long, hard stare. She placed her hand on his tensed arm, and said,

"This son-of-a-bitch comes at women in the dark, and I'll bet from behind, like a coward. He doesn't walk up to them in broad daylight."

"You're right about that. Which makes all women alone, unsafe. I'm edgy," he replied.

"Did you eat?" she asked.

"No. I didn't have time to."

"Let me throw something together. You have to eat, Sam." He looked at his watch, noting the time.

"I can order a pizza, from the sub shop. You don't have to cook."

"I'm edgy, too. Cooking helps."

"Have you thought about getting a grill? I can grill, you know…steaks, chops, even fish." He shrugged when she stood and gave him an amused look. "That means, I would be able to give you a hand with meals sometimes."

"As a matter-of-fact, I've been looking a grills online."

"You can't buy a grill online, M.J." Sincerely appalled, Sam stared at her…with pity. "You have to see it…and…"

"Stroke it?" she offered a bright smile. "Speak to it?" she finished. Appalled pity turned into cool disdain, that made her want to laugh.

"You have to see it," he repeated. She made a humming noise and moved off to check her supplies for the impromptu dinner.

* * *

Moments later, he came in, grabbed her, kissed her breathless and then grabbed a beer. He sat at the counter, sipping his beer, and said,

"I'm buying the grill."

"What?"

"I said, I'm buying the grill." Distracted, she turned to him and said,

"The grill? Be serious, Sam."

"Grills are serious." Now she laughed.

"I'd be the last one to say, any cooking appliance or tool, isn't serious. Which is why I've been researching, eliminating and considering, online."

"Have you ever bought a grill before?"

"No, but…"

"I'll take care of it." It occurred to her, he was thinking and feeling something other than grief. So she stretched it out.

"You don't know the features I want, neither the brand or the size. We're having chicken, rice, and mixed vegetables," she said.

"You don't buy a grill online anymore than you buy a car online." Because she felt better herself, she took another jab.

"Have you ever bought a grill?"

"My dad has, twice and I was with him both times. It's the same thing."

"Well there's plenty of time to decide, before summer," she said.

"There's your first wrong turn…well, second, since the whole online deal. If you get the right grill, you can use it year-round, especially when you can put it right outside the kitchen, like you can here."

She got a pot for the rice and put it on the stove. Then came to the counter, so she could face him, while she minced garlic.

"I had no idea you were so serious about out-door grills, Sam Evans. The things you learn."

"I'm buying the grill." The finality in his tone, caused her change the subject.

"Do you know how to peel carrots?" Frowning, he took a sip of beer and said,

"Probably." She pulled carrots out of the fridge, got a peeler and pushed them to his side of the counter.

"Good, peel these."

"I thought you scrape them off with a knife." It was her turn to look at him with pity.

"Sure, if you want to take all day and make a mess out of it. You just…" She picked up a carrot and the peeler, and demonstrated.

"Okay, okay. I got it."

M.J chuckled inside at him, as he stood with a small pile of carrot peels, scowling at the carrot he was working on stripping.

 _"He's so cute,"_ she thought, taking a quick glance at him. She added chicken to the pan, with a satisfying sizzle, and after a long beat of silence said,

"There's something I want to tell you, Sam. Something I haven't thought about in years."

She picked up a bottle with wine, and dumped some into the skillet, trapping the steam with a lid and then, lowered the heat.

"It's about a mugger." He turned to her, giving her his full attention, carrots forgotten.

"What mugger?" he asked.

"In New York. I was home on summer break from college, working at a restaurant. One night, I decided to walk home from work. It was a nice night, apparently the mugger thought so too. Anyway, this guy comes up to me, with a knife, demanding my money, my watch, my earrings and my phone. I would have given it all to him, just like uncle Burt impressed upon me, a million times, but that asshole figured he had a defenseless woman, scared out of her wits…and to him, a pretty one, so he copped a feel. And he smirked…"

"What did you do?"

"I bruised his balls, broke his nose, dislocated his shoulder and called nine-one-one. He was still on the ground when the cops got there. He shouldn't have grabbed my breast…or touched me."

"You broke his nose?" a completely fascinated Sam asked, as he studied her small hands and short fingers. "You like breaking noses."

"The nose is a quick and reliable target…offense and defense. I like yours."

She gathered up the carrots from his side, the cauliflower and broccoli she prepared herself, put them into a big strainer, and took them to the sink to wash.

"So, don't piss me off," she finished.

"Just let me know if you're not in the mood for me to cop a feel." She laughed, hard, and brought the carrots back, to slice for steaming.

"You'll be the first. Excellent carrot peeling. You are dismissed from duty…if you want to have another beer, or whatever…you have about thirty minutes, before you can eat."

* * *

She'd just finished putting the veggies in the pot, when she found herself in his strong arms.

"A lot can happen in thirty minutes," he huskily whispered.

Not a second later, his lips were on hers, in a demanding kiss, silencing her protests. He wasted no time in walking her backwards, to the lower deck off the kitchen, his mouth never leaving hers.

In the dark and quiet atmosphere, punctuated with beautiful sounds from night insects, he took her, hard and fast, as if his life depended on it.

The only thing M.J could do, was, hold on, for the ride of her life, as she sat astride of his strong, long legs, gripping his wide shoulders, whilst he plowed into her. Her top had lost its buttons and her bra cups were under her bountiful breasts, pushing them higher, and more pointedly into his face.

His warm mouth latched onto one, sucking greedily, while his huge hands, held her hips in a vise, anchoring them to him.

Her release surprised her, as did the words that came from her mouth…from her soul. "I…love you."

The minute she said them, he reacted, by releasing a long, low groan as he emptied himself inside of her.

They sat for a while, coming down from their high, as their breaths began to even out and become normal.

* * *

The full impact of her words was like a heavy curtain around them, but she was happy, and somehow, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She started to rise, but he held her, and looked up into her eyes, and what she saw overwhelmed her. His eyes were swimming with emotion, but love took precedent.

A tear leaked, and then another, from his pretty eyes. She caught the third with her thumb and started wiping his face. He caught her hands and held them, as he looked right at her.

"Do you mean it?" he quietly asked.

"Yes," was her equally quiet reply.

"I've been waiting to hear you say that…since…"

He released her hands and hugged her, crushing her body against his. M.J could feel him shaking. He eased back, and looked at her again, whilst brushing her hair away from her face. She looked like a disheveled mess, but to him, the most beautiful woman in the world.

"I love you, so much, M.J, more than I thought possible. You've made me so…happy, I never want this moment to end."

"Me either. But…the food is still on the stove and my friends are still here," she said gesturing to herself. He laughed.

"I don't see anything wrong with the way you look. You should walk around like this… when we're here alone, or at my place." She pinched him. "Ow. That hurt."

"Shut up, you big baby, and let me up."

"This is what I get for giving you a mind-blowing or… Ow!"

"Only you, Sam Evans."

* * *

 **I hope this was good enough. I'm a bit busy, and I kinda race through this. Like the other chapters, I've changed so much things and added in so much...I've completely taken the book apart. Hope it made sense.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you for staying on this journey with me. It means everything to me.**

 **We're on the homestretch, only about five more chapters left and possibly, a short epilogue.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

M.J was on her deck sitting with her tablet, and earbuds in her ears, allowing the quiet atmosphere, to wash away the hours of shopping and sightseeing, she did that day.

Her friends were all tuckered out and were having a rest. Lucky them.

* * *

As she scrolled through tons of photos, listening to Whitney Houston, Noah and his dad worked, uprooting woody shrubs and ugly tree stumps, she'd simply stop seeing, with a massive chain, attached to a massive tractor.

She longed to take off to the forest, or down to the shoreline, but she couldn't defy Sam, her friends or her own common sense.

The sound of a wood chipper and the chain saw, permeated her ears, so she decided to head inside for a while.

Her thoughts drifted to the something the chief had told her, when she and the gang ran into him in town.

 _"There's not much more I can tell you. Dana didn't have any food or water since about eight or nine o'clock Friday night. That's consistent with Mindy. The same type of blade was used on both. There are no prints, no DNA and no hairs, but her own, that's also consistent with Mindy. He's being careful. I think this is due to experience. We're working with some other colleagues in Seattle…but I'm afraid I can't say much more on that."_

Whoever this fool is, he's done this before, had to.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

* * *

Outside, stood Dwight Evans, looking like an older version of Sam, and just as handsome.

"I don't know how you can work with that noise," he said, entering and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"It's my great powers of concentration."

"Bravo!"

He ushered her inside, and steered her towards the kitchen, where he engaged her in nice, quiet conversation.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mary and Stevie stealthily moved around the back, passed Noah and his dad, hard at work, on a job of their own.

When they were finished, Mary pulled out he phone and called her husband. A cheerful smile blossomed on Dwight Evans' face, when he saw who the caller was.

He politely, took M.J's hand and lead her out of the kitchen and up to her studio.

She found it odd that the door was closed, but when she opened the door, she froze.

The desk she'd first seen, piled in Cecil's barn, stood gleaming, facing out just like she'd wanted, with the leather chair she'd bought and stored, behind it.

Her computer, her in and out boxes and her desk lamp, sat on it, along with a little vase, full of wildflowers. Her tools, equipment and supplies, were all arranged, just as she'd diagrammed and the sliding barn door, on her new storage cabinet, stood open, to show everything inside, organized and on shelves.

Mary stood with her arms clasped between her breasts, all but vibrating, beside her shy son, who was looking out from under his bangs, at M.J's reaction.

"Tell me you love it. Please, please, love," Mary breathed.

"Oh my God. I…"

"Say the words. Say you love it."

"Of course, I love it. I'd be crazy not to. You finished the desk. You didn't tell me." Mary threw up her arms in the air, shouting,

"Surprise!"

"It's…it's exactly what I wanted. It's more than I've ever had. I've never worked in a space like this before. It's done, it's finally done."

"It's not done, sweetheart. You need a nice love-seat over there…and a table, for a comfortable thinking spot. An accent rug, pillows a throw…anything you like. But you love it." Incredibly moved, M.J brushed her fingers over the petals of the wildflowers and said,

"Outside of family, I've never had anyone go this much trouble for me."

"We're family now." With tears in her eyes, she said,

"Mary." That's all it took. Mary flew across the room and grabbed her up in a tight hug, swaying, bouncing, even crying a little.

"I'm so happy and I'm so happy, you're happy."

"Thank you so much. You're the best."

"I am!" Laughing now, M.J drew back and said,

"All of you." She moved towards a still shy looking Stevie and pecked him on his cheek. "Thank you, Stevie."

"No problem," he quietly said, his face s different shade of red. Next she went to Dwight, wagging her finger and saying,

"Sneaky. You're good. Thank you."

"Yep, that's me. I was worried about Noah and his dad spilling, they weren't in on the plan, but it all worked out."

"Yes, it did. Seriously, thank you guys."

"Aw sweetheart, you're so welcomed. We have to go. I'm driving her back home. Stevie's stopping short, at a friend," Dwight said.

"He's worried about me and Stacy, even being in the truck by ourselves…but we're not going to think about that now."

Blinking away tears, Mary swiped her hand through the air, erasing sad thoughts.

"You're going to sit down in your new chair, at your newly refurbished desk and bask."

"I absolutely am. Thank you. All of you."

* * *

Alone, she did just as Mary told her.

She sat and basked, then got up and looked at everything.

Forgetting the noise that was coming from the yard, she gave in to the pleasure of working in her own space.

* * *

While her friends rested, M.J worked, and lost track of time the best possible way.

The productivity and pleasure of working in a settled, organized space, told her, she'd been making do, for far too long.

Sacrificing all of this, for the pick-up-and-go, she'd felt was necessary. No one was chasing her, she thought, but her own ghosts and neuroses. It was time to put it all away. Time to believe instead of doubting, that the past was over and done.

She had a home, and in it, she'd watch the summer roll in, then feel the change in the air, then the light change as fall painted the world. She'd have fires lit when winter blew, and be there, when spring bloomed again.

 _"I have a home,"_ she thought again, as she added the last of the new stock to her page. _"I have friends…family and I have a man…Sam."_

However, she looked at her life, it was one hell of an improvement. Most of all, she was ready to be happy…really happy…all the way happy. To hold onto what she had, and what she was building, for herself.

Now it was time…past time, she realized, as she noted the time on her computer, to go down and put a meal together.

* * *

She took the back stairs, reminding herself to pick out lighting for that area, and singing the Katy Perry song, that had been in her earbuds, when she'd shut down the computer, she all but danced to the kitchen, finding her bestie Kurt, sitting at his laptop.

"Hey, I thought you were still resting."

"I was, but Blaine called and after I finished talking to him, I decided to hit the social airwaves. What are you up to? You look happy."

"I am. The Evans' surprised me today and it felt wonderful." She proceeded to tell him, all about her now completed studio and what they did.

"That's wonderful. You deserve it. Maybe I can take a look in there later, when the girls are up and about."

"Yes, you can. You guys are free to go anywhere, at any time. My house is your house."

"That's so sweet. Thank you. Hey, it says here, that Dana Larrier's funeral is the day after tomorrow."

"That'd make it the second funeral since I've been here…the second terrible funeral…And Sam…"

"I know. Mercy-me…" He broke off, when he saw her eyes snapped to the doorway, as if expecting someone.

"That would be Sam," she said.

She started to move, when a picture on Kurt's laptop caught her eyes. It was exactly like a picture she had taken in the forest, just west of the bluff. The one with the nurse log.

She frowned at the image and said,

"That's my photo. Did you download that?"

"No. But according to this article, Dana's body was dumped just off the track, beside this log. They're saying it's an eight-minute trek into the woods…that's without carrying a hundred and fifty-pound body. It bothered me right away. Why would he take her in this far? If he wanted her to be found, why take her in that far…why put in the time and the effort? And why this spot?"

"I don't know. He probably wanted a little more time before she was found. Who knows?"

"I don't see the point of it. But this place, right here." He tapped the screen. "It has a point. How long have you had that photo on your website?"

"A couple of weeks." A chill skipped along her spine. "Do you think he…that this photo inspired him or factored into where he left her? It doesn't make sense. For one thing, I've got a dozen photos on the site, that I took in that area."

"He had to pick one." Sam entered, face grim. He had heard most of their conversation. He studied the image.

"It's just a weird coincidence," M.J said. "Disturbing, but a coincidence. I barely knew either of the victims…I've only been here…in this area, for about eight...nine months…less than a year," she finished.

Saying nothing, Kurt brought up another photo, one she'd taken off the bluff. Next he brought up another one, side by side. It was an exact replica.

"Yours, and the crime scene shot. Up on your site, M.J, for a couple months." The chill seeped in and dug into her bones.

"Why would anyone use my photos, to choose where they left a body? It doesn't make sense. It just doesn't."

"Stop it." Clamping a hand on her shoulder, Sam spoke sharply. "Stop it and breathe." Annoyance at his tone, pushed the weight off her chest.

"It doesn't make any goddamn sense."

"And doing what he did to Mindy and Dana does?"

"No, no, but that's… that's pathology, right?" She appealed to Sam. "I know enough to understand. But I don't understand how you could think those pictures...to think this killer is, what…a fan of my work?"

"It's more." Sam had both hands on her shoulders now, and though he kneaded at the tense muscles, she understood that it was another way of keeping her in place.

"What's more?" she asked. Kurt took her hand a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze, then brought up another image.

"Mercy-me, take a look at this. This is another of your photos…the shot of Death Valley. You took this way back, before you came here to live. It's the scene of another body dump."

He saw her physically shudder. He went on.

"Look at this one. You took this in Kansas…Malvern lake. The body of a sixty-eight-year-old female was left here. She lived alone and because her house was broken into, and things taken, the authorities put it down to a robbery gone wrong."

"But it was the same. What was done to her, was the same," she said quietly.

"There's a pattern. You flew home for Christmas, remember?"

"Yes. I left my car at the airport. I didn't want to drive that far for just a week."

"Remember that shot you took in Battery Park? It matches another crime scene photo. It's a pattern, Mercy-me."

* * *

At this point, it felt as if a ball of ice had settled in her belly, as realization dawned on her.

"He's using my work."

"There are more."

"How many more?"

"It looks like four more. But this article speaks about missings from areas…areas I've been able to place you at, through your photos."

"Do you have the dates and locations for the last two years? You must've been keeping track," Sam said.

"Yes. But I don't blog about a place until I have left it…I'm careful. I keep a log of where I was, what date I took what shots…all on my computer."

"We need to send them to Chief Michaels. If you've kept a log from further back, you need to send them too."

She focused on Sam's pretty eyes and his warm hands on her shoulders.

"I have a log from when I left New York. I have everything."

"Then, we need to send everything."

"He didn't just stumble onto my site and decide to use my photos. He's following me…either literally or through my blog…or my photos."

"He's not following," Kurt said and then,

"He's stalking," Sam finished. When her shoulders went stiffer under his hands, Sam brought her closer and said, "Don't flip on me M.J. You can handle this…because you have to."

He spoke to Kurt without taking his eyes off M.J.

"He's been stalking her for at least two years. His preferred victim reminds him of her…they're all her. That's what we have to realize and believe."

"I believe that theory, Sam. Maybe your chief can find more information." Sam took a quick glance at Kurt, barely a heartbeat.

"You're worried she'll break." His gaze met hers and he held it. "That's not the way for you, is it, M.J? You're not going to break."

"I'm not going to break," she repeated. But part of her was trying desperately to seal up the cracks. "He…He takes them, and he keeps them at least for a couple of days, so he can rape them, torture them…to gratify himself. After he's beaten them and raped them, kept them in the dark, cut them, choke them, kept them bound and gagged, he strangles them."

She drew a shaky breath, then another, before she turned to Kurt and said,

"He's like my father. Too much like my father…to say there are other cruel, sick men who'd do this. He's killing like Marcus Jones…and..."

 _"f_ _ollowing me…the way I followed my father that night."_

"I believe he's studied Marcus Jones…could be, that he's written to him…or even visited him. And I believe he's studied you. He's here and according to this article, he's killed twice in the same place," Kurt replied.

"Because I'm in the same place," M.J said blankly.

"Seems so. It's almost like he's evolved…and while his method is not exactly like your father's, he's mimicked it.

 _"This isn't a coincidence, neither is it an excuse…the facts are clear and straight…I have to face them,"_ she thought.

"Why hasn't he come after me? There have to have been countless opportunities."

"Because then, it'll be over," Sam said. "I'm sorry baby, but it's what makes sense," he finished.

"I agree," Kurt threw in.

"I think we have enough to convince Chief Michaels, that this is a lead worth following. This creep is smart, tenacious, organized and mission-oriented. But he's also arrogant. That arrogance...using those particular sites for his dumping ground, is going to break this wide open. We're going to stop him. M.J, you need to get that information sent to the police chief, as soon as possible. It's key," Sam said.

"I'll go up, compile them and email them."

She slid off the stool, and went up the back steps without another word.

"She's telling herself she can't have this," Kurt said, lifting his hands to encompass the house and the life. "At least not now. What her father is, and what she's tried to leave behind, came here with her."

"Yeah. I can see that. But she's wrong." With a nod, Kurt started to get up, but sat back again.

"You should go to her. She's had you when I wasn't around. And I was there, for a lot of the horrible stuff. She needs somebody who isn't attached or reminds her of that."

"I'll take care of it."

* * *

M.J was sat at her desk, her beautifully restored desk, in her beautifully designed studio. A space that, less than an hour before, had made her so happy and so hopeful.

Her thoughts ran amok in her head.

" _Did I really tell myself…really believed, the past was over? I don't think it will ever be. The ghosts were never exorcised. Once again, a killer's life is entwined and twisted with mine."_

When she heard footsteps, she opened the computer, and began to bring up the files. She knew who it was right away.

"It's going to take me a few minutes," she said, very calmly, as Sam came in.

"I get that." He wandered in, measuring the space and the feel of it. "Swank…but not fancy. That's a hard note to hit."

"You should go down. You don't have to stay, Sam. There's nothing for you to do up here."

"That's where you're wrong. You need another chair in here. How else is somebody going to hang out, and bug you when you're working? Why don't you say what's bothering you? I've figured out some of it. Start with, 'if I hadn't gotten it into my head to live here, Dana and Mindy would still be alive'. Am I close?"

"Straight to the cliché." He shook his head.

"I thought you'd do better. That's not even a challenge. If you'd move on, how many others…before somebody else finally clued in on the pattern? And what are the chances, anybody but him would've seen the connection with your photos?"

"I don't know the chances. But obviously, the chances of me being connected to a serial killer, for the second time, are really good."

"Sucks for you." Shock snagged her breath.

"Sucks for me?"

"Yeah, it does. It sucks for you, that some lunatic out there is obsessed with you and is emulating your fuck of a father. But you're not the reason, you're the excuse. The reason's inside this sick bastard's mind, just like your father's reasons were in his."

"It doesn't matter…excuse or reason…it doesn't matter…what's in their minds…or what drives them to kill. It matters that, for the first ten years of my life, I grew up in a house with a monster…and I loved him. It matters that, where I spent those years, is now known as Marcus Tyrone Jones' killing field. It matters that, what I grew up with, followed me and my mother to New York, until she killed herself, rather than live with it. It matters that it followed me, leaving death behind, ever since."

Although tears stung the backs of her eyes, she wouldn't weep. Tears were useless. But fury, full-blown fury, felt righteous.

* * *

"It matters that I tried to convince myself, I could have what the majority of the human race has. A home, friends, people I care about…all of it."

"You have that, all of it."

"It was…is…a fantasy. I got caught up in it, allowing myself to believe it was real, but…"

"So what, you'll pack, take off, sell this place and…leave me? It is real, M.J." One fact stood clear, as she thought it again.

"Sometimes people have roots so corrupted, they shouldn't try to plant them."

"That's a load of hog-wash and it's weak. If you want to feel sorry for yourself, I'll give you a pass, but that's weak. You've got better than that, baby."

"You don't know what I've got, _baby_." Her tone bordered on condescending, even mocking.

"The hell I don't…and because I do, I know you're not going to let some son-of-a-bitch, send you running." He placed his palms on her desk and leaned towards her. "I know what I've got and I'll be damned, if I let you run. You've got what you need right here and you're going to stay and enjoy all of it."

She surged to her feet. Bold and sassy as ever.

"Don't tell me what I'm going to do."

"I am telling you. You're going to stick, because, what you want, and what you need, is right here. What makes you happy is right here. You need me and I make you happy. And I fucking well need you, so you'll stay."

"It's my life and my choice."

"Screw that. If you want to try to run, I'll just bring you back."

"Stop telling me what to do. Stop yelling at me."

"You started it. Maybe you haven't worked it through your system, and pulled it free from the 'I've-got-bad-blood' excuses, you fall back on, but you said you loved me, remember?"

"How can you say things like that? How can you minimize this?"

"Because you over-inflate it, so it's easy to stick a damn pin in it. Because I'm fucking in love with you, so you're going to stay. And that's it."

* * *

She took one stumbling step back and went pale. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Cut that out and breathe. Yell back if you want. You don't panic when you're pissed. And maybe, I would've done that with more class, if I wasn't so pissed, right back at you."

 _"Or maybe not,"_ he thought. "Simple sunlight in your hair…or morning light…or you sitting there, working on a piece of plywood, with sunlight all over you…makes me feel like someone kicked me off a damn cliff...and I'm falling...helplessly. So yeah, you're not going anywhere. Just check that off your list."

"It can't work."

"You should try to balance out that Pollyanna attitude of yours and season it with more cynicism. It has been working. For both of us. I know what the hell works and what doesn't. We work M.J."

"That was before…" When his eyebrows lifted, she dragged a hand through her hair, trying to find level ground, again. "Can't you see what's going to happen? I pray and I keep praying, that everyone is right. That they'll find him and they'll stop him. And I hope with all I have in me, they do that before he kills again. But when they do find him, it'll all fall apart again. Me…my father…and whoever this maniac is…all tied together. And the media…"

"Oh, fuck the media. You'll stand up to it."

"You have no idea what it's like."

"No, I don't. But you'll stand up to it," he repeated, without a hint of a doubt. "And you won't be alone. You'll never have to be alone again. You can count on me."

"Oh God, Sam." When he crossed over to her, she tried to back away, shaking her head, but he simply grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

"You can count on me. And you're damn well going to." He tipped her head back and kissed her, more gently than he ever had. "I love you." He kissed her again, drew her in tighter and just held her. "Get used to it."

"I'm not sure that's possible."

"You don't know, until you try. We're not going everywhere, M.J." She felt herself breathe in and breathe out.

"I'll try."

"That'll do."

* * *

 **Wow! This chapter was an emotional roller-coaster. Sam isn't playing. He's not letting M.J go without a fight...or an all-out brawl. Until next chapter, much love to you.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you for your continued support. It means everything to me.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

 **Only three more chapters left...and this one is fairly long.**

* * *

It felt like an interrogation.

She knew better, but when her three friends came into her studio in the morning, one with a folding chair and the other two, dropping to the floor and sitting, they turned her sanctuary into an interrogation room.

"You didn't sleep well," Kurt started.

"No, not very well. Neither did you."

"Well enough, just not very long. I was up late."

"Looking at those pictures and seeing if they are a match for other crime scenes."

"Yes."

"You didn't come down for breakfast…none of you."

"Because it's at dawn. I grabbed a bagel and coffee," Kurt said.

"Yeah Chica, what's up with you and the Greek God, anyway. In my book, as long as it's still dark outside, it's night," Santana threw in.

"It's become a tradition. I get to see, one of the most spectacular sights I've ever seen…seeing the sun come up and the colors, as the water welcomes it…I can't get used to it."

"Sounds magical. I need to see that," Tina said dreamily. She reached out from her perch on the floor and gently grasped M.J's hand. "Hey, I know, it has to feel like your whole life, tipped sideways, but you have to keep living it," she finished.

"I know and it feels like it…but this maniac is interested in me…"

"Let him be interested. This is where his murderous rampage will end. He chose the wrong woman to set his sights on," Santana said.

"Look, he's never had an investigation focused on him like this. It changes things, Mercy-me," Kurt said.

"The creep won't know what hit him. He might still try to risk something, but…"

"Whatever we do…or whatever the authorities do, won't change what's already happened," M.J said, cutting off Tina.

"No. It won't, but it'll make him change his tactics…he could become nervous and when he does…he'll mess up," Kurt stated. Tina was on her knees now.

"You have a wonderful quality, Mercedes. Your astute power of observation."

This time, she didn't make a flinch at her given name, and it was observed by all. Tina went on.

"You see the big picture and the small details. It's an advantage and it's going to help." A small sarcastic laugh escaped M.J.

"My keen powers of observation, didn't clue me in, that I'm being followed by a serial killer, for over two years."

"I think it's longer…but hey, being clued in now, you can go back, remember things and people you noticed. You can go back, and refresh those memories, by going through pictures you took…the where, when, and what was going on around you," Santana wisely stated.

* * *

Longer, she wanted to dwell on longer, but pressed her fingers to her eyes, and ordered herself to deal with it.

"I don't pay attention to people when I'm working. I block them out."

"You have to pay attention to block them out. You know more than you think, Chica and I will…we will help you, to bring it to the surface."

Though she had to stifle a sigh, she decided, if she had to take another trip into a therapy session, it might as well be her best friends, in the chair…and on the floor.

* * *

"Let's go back, to how much longer you guys think this was happening." Santana spoke first.

"Do you remember Alyssa Anderson?"

"I don't know." She could feel a headache coming on, so she rubbed her temple. "I don't think so, San. I've brushed up against dozens and dozens of people. On shoots, and at the gallery on trips to New York. There are motel clerks, waitresses, gas station attendants, shopkeepers, hikers. Countless people. The odds of remembering…"

But suddenly she did.

"Wait. Lyssa…I think they called her Lyssa. I remembered hearing about her at college…it was my sophomore year…after she was killed. But, it wasn't like this and everyone said it was her ex-boyfriend. He'd been violent with her before, which is why he was an ex. She was beaten and raped, but she was stabbed to death, wasn't she? And… God…they found her in the trunk of her own car."

"What do you remember about her?" Tina asked.

"I didn't know her. She was a year ahead of me. But I recognized her, when I saw her picture on the news, and on the Net, after it happened. We didn't have any classes together. She didn't socialize, but she came into the restaurant where I worked the first two years of college, before I could intern as a photographer. I waited on her enough times to remember her face."

Now that she'd brought that face back into her mind, she remembered more.

"She was short, honey complexion, dark brown hair…very pretty and polite enough to say thanks to a waitress. I understand she fits the type and she was killed where I went to school, but she wasn't held for any length of time and she wasn't strangled."

"I think she was his first," Kurt observed. He went on. "I think he panicked before he could attempt strangulation. It was messy and quick, even sloppy…and he was lucky. If the investigation hadn't zeroed in so completely on the ex, he might not have gotten away with it. She'd had a fight with the ex that night."

"I remember reading that and hearing it around campus," M.J said. She found her calm, and pushed for memories. "He…the boyfriend…tried to get her to come back, and they fought. He threatened her. People heard him, tell her, he'd make her sorry, and make her pay. He didn't have an alibi."

"And they had no physical evidence, and no matter how hard and how long they worked him, he never came off his story, of being alone in his room, asleep…when she was grabbed and killed…and put into the trunk of her car," Santana threw in.

"She looked a little like you," Kurt said.

"No. No she didn't."

"You wore your hair similar to hers and she was short…just like you. She was slimmer, but she carried herself a lot like you." He paused, with his blue eyes fixated on hers and she knew worse was coming.

"Say it," she said.

"I think he used her as a surrogate…his first…because of those similarities. It maybe, that he couldn't get to you, so he used her as a substitute. And when he got the high of killing, he continued taking substitutes. Along the way, he evolved…he learned and became refined."

"Kurt…you guys…that's eight years…you're talking eight years."

"I know, it seems farfetched, but after seeing and hearing things like this, in my career, it's more than possible," Santana said. She went on. "I believe, initially, his kills were more spread out, probably months, even a year between. He experimented with method, studying you and your father. I think in his sick mind, he's competing with your father…who had a ten-year streak…which can all be verified, but you and I know, it might have been longer."

* * *

M.J couldn't sit, so she pushed away from the desk, walked to the window, and drank in the view of it. The peace of it, the colors blooming in light and the colors thriving in the shadow.

"I don't know why, but if I believe it's been eight years, it makes it less intimate. This isn't about something I did, or something I didn't do…Sam was right…I am the excuse. God, I've asked myself so many times in the first couple of years, after that night in the woods, what I'd done or didn't do. To make my father hurt all of those girls."

"You didn't do anything," Tina said. M.J continued.

"It took me a long time to accept that, to push away any blame. It's not going to take me as long now. Not with this, not with him. And he's not going to get away with using me as an excuse to kill." She turned to them and adamantly said, "He's not going to get away with it."

"That's our Mercedes," Tina said.

"Damn right it is. Alyssa would have been the same age as Katie, when I found her."

"I hadn't thought of that," Kurt said, considering.

"It might have been a trigger. Not necessarily the age thing…but more along the lines of a college student thing. You saved a college student. Now you're a college student, and he goes there to kill you, or a surrogate. To finish what Jones started," Santana surmised.

Her words left everyone in wonderment at the fragility of life.

* * *

Kurt rose from his seat, on the little folding chair and went to his friend.

"Mercy-me, that is a tough pill to swallow, but we have to believe it…it makes sense. This…monster, obviously has you in his twisted sights…but he doesn't know who he is trifling with. He has to come through all of us, my dad and Carole, not to mention, Sam Evans and crew. I have every faith in the local authorities…they will find him. I hope to God they do, before anyone in your corner does.

Now I know it's hard, but when you can, go back over that period of time, when Alyssa Anderson was killed. Try to take yourself back there, to the days before she was killed, your routine, class, work, study time and your social life."

"I barely had a social life, but I'll do it. I'm going to do whatever I can to help the police find him." A small clap from Kurt, and the other two saying,

"Yeah," and "That's my girl," brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

"I need to hit some people up, Chica, to gather some information. Are you going to be okay?" Santana asked.

"I'll be fine San. Go ahead, do what you have to do."

At that, the two embraced, and Tina joined in, laying her head on M.J's shoulder.

* * *

A few minutes later, M.J and Kurt found themselves alone. Kurt used that opportunity, to personally speak to his friend.

"Hey, you and Sam, is everything okay between the two of you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You were yelling…both of you…when you came up here yesterday.

"He pisses me off, so that I won't panic. It works…most of the time. He shouted and swore and still said he was in love with me. Only him…" She giggled.

"He's a very passionate man, I get that about him and anyone can see he's nuts about you."

"He's nuts alright." Another giggle escaped her, causing the same reaction from Kurt.

"Did you say it back this time? I hope you did…and you're nuts about him too, even though you try to hide it."

"Not that time."

"When?" A deep, dark, red, flushed her features. Of course, she said it…in the throes of passion, but it came from her soul. How could she tell Kurt that?

"I…I did. The night before…out on the deck."

She shifted her gaze to the ceiling, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It only took Kurt a few seconds for it to click.

"Oh my Gaga…You said it during sex…on the deck. Sam deserves a medal…he definitely knows how to tap that. He just went up a few more notches in my book."

"You know what I think? Santana's rubbing off on you. But yeah, Sam knows exactly what to do, with all of this," she said, gesturing to herself.

Kurt roared with laughter. M.J too.

* * *

An hour later, she was alone, sitting behind her desk, digging out files, to take herself back to college. She spent two hours and made notes, before taking her camera and going outside for a break.

Noah and his crew were hard at work, setting pavers, so she began to take pictures of them.

 _"Hunks at work,"_ she thought, immediately seeing a series of photos, as she looked at a tall, golden, built, guy… _Mr. Hunk_ , who was currently sweaty, stripped to the waist and leaning on a shovel.

 _"Maybe I can do a calendar,"_ she thought, remembering Sam working on an engine and Dwight with a nail-gun.

She spent longer than she intended, taking candids, and devising poses, as idea after idea flitted through her head.

* * *

Back on the inside, she quietly scanned the photos from her website, and the corresponding crime scene photos, putting them in chronological order. The first name and date, occurred eight months after Alyssa Anderson and the next, nearly eight months after that.

So she spent her day in the past, organizing notes on her college years, as she went along.

 _In the brisk winds of November, on a college campus, where Alyssa Anderson had walked from the library to her car, intending to drive back to the group house, she shared with friends, to the sweltering summer in New York, where a runaway …only seventeen, was found beaten, stabbed and strangled in a dumpster, behind a homeless shelter. To a bitter February weekend, where M.J had traveled with her photography group, to New Bedford, where a married mother of two, left her evening yoga class, and was found dead on a rocky shoreline, M.J had photographed only that afternoon._

Any excuse for lunch was skipped by M.J, as she fueled herself on water, far too much cold caffeine and sheer drive. She ignored the headache she had, as long as she could and popped Advil, to finish writing up her notes in a way, she hoped, someone other than herself could follow.

Exhausted, and starving, she decided Mary Evans was right. She needed a love suite in the studio. If she had one, she'd have curled up on it, right this minute and taken a nap.

She stepped out of the studio, stood for a moment, in absolute silence, and decided, being alone, was nearly as refreshing as a nap. The first thing she did, when she entered the kitchen, was to grab a couple cookies, to fill the hole, while she thought about dinner.

It was then, she realized she wasn't alone.

* * *

Seeing the accordion doors wide open, would've stopped her heart, if she hadn't heard Sam's voice…singing, and sounding so very good.

He sat on a rolling stool, singing 'Let me Love You' as he assemble a stainless steel cabinet. The rest of the…behemoth, the only thing she could think to call it...was spread out on a folding table behind him.

"Is that a grill?" He stopped singing and glanced up.

"I told you I would get the grill."

"It's really big."

"No point in going puny." He fitted the bit of an electric drill, into a screw and gave it a whirl.

"Don't they come already assembled?"

"Why would I pay somebody to put something together, when I can do it myself?"

"You bought a grill…that looks to be, the Cadillac of grills."

"I said I would."

"And you do, what you say you'll do."

"Yes. Why say you will, if you won't." He shifted and looked at her, watching him. "What?"

"I had a headache earlier. And I was tired…mind, body and spirit. I wished I had a couch in my studio. I would have taken a nap. But I earned that headache and the tiredness, by forgetting to eat lunch and drinking too much caffeine."

"I don't get how people forget to eat. Your stomach practically says, feed me, so you feed it and move on."

She let out a sigh and it surprised her. It wasn't sad, frustrated or poignant. It was content.

"Sam." She went to him, took his face in her hands and kissed him. "You are one of a kind and you bought a grill…one that looks as though it needs its own zip code."

"It's not that big."

"And you're putting it together. I'll go do the same with dinner."

"This is a grill, remember? In about forty minutes, I'm going to fire it up and cook those steaks I picked up on the way home."

 _"He said 'on the way home'…it sure feels like home when he's here…"_

"You bought steaks? And you're going to grill them?" She looked at the partially assembled behemoth, doubtfully. "Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight. Have some faith. I had them put a big-ass salad together, so if you want to be useful, you could wash the potatoes, I'm also going to grill."

"Bossy much," she said, as she turned to go back into the kitchen. He chuckled, and continued assembling.

* * *

Just as she started to prep, Kurt appeared.

"I heard Sam's voice."

"He's on the deck, assembling a gigantic grill."

"A grill?"

"Yes, a grill." He stepped out onto the deck and said, "Whoa. Now that's a grill."

"It will be," Sam replied.

"Need a hand?"

"You've never been mechanically inclined," M.J shouted and got a stony stare thrown her way.

"You don't know everything about me, Mercy-me," he said, taking mock offense.

M.J just giggled and returned to her preparations.

She stood in the kitchen, listening to the two of them talk. And in her mind, said,

 _"There could be normal. There could be pockets of normal, even in the midst of awful."_ She made up her mind to cherish it.

* * *

M.J should've had faith. Because, in forty minutes, despite what she considered Kurt's dubious assistance, Sam did just as he had promised. He fired up the grill.

"I'm duly impressed. And it's beautiful. Big, but beautiful," she said.

"Well said, ma'am," Sam said. "It has a cover." He jerked his thumb at said cover, still in its package, sitting on the table. "When you use it, let it cool off and then cover it, every time," he finished.

"Without fail," she promised. "Oh, and these side burners will be handy, plus it has all of this storage," she said, opening one of the doors."That's a rotisserie attachment."

"Yeah. I'll show you how to use it when you want to," he said.

"Sam, you forget. I worked in a restaurant. I know how to attach and use a rotisserie. And trust me, I'll definitely be using this. Let me get the potatoes ready."

* * *

Back outside on the deck, M.J placed the potatoes on the table and said,

"If I'd known this was happening, I would have had you picked up some liquid smoke."

"I've got some. They threw in a thank-you package. There's some in there. Why?"

"Why?…get it and see." He did as told and what he saw, was her mixing oil, the smoke and some garlic in a bowl.

"They're just potatoes, M.J."

"Not when I'm done with them."

In another bowl, she mixed salt, pepper and more garlic. Then she took one of her little knives and cut wedges out of the potatoes.

"Why…." He began, but she just waved him off and put pats of butter in the wedges, them sprinkled the salt mixture in it, before fitting the pieces she'd cut out, back on.

"That's a lot of trouble for…" She made a warning sound, cutting him short, as she rubbed the potatoes with the oil mixture, used the rest of the seasoning on them and then wrapped them in foil.

"Have a little faith," she said, handing him the potatoes.

* * *

When Kurt rejoined them, with the others in tow, the two love-birds were sitting on the glider, in quiet solitude, wrapped in each other's arms.

"That's one beautiful bastard," Santana said, studying the grill.

Presently, they sat on the deck, and just like that, a nice conversation got going.

* * *

A while later, they were enjoying their meal, and as usual, the subject landed on the one thing, that took up residence, in all of their minds.

"Okay, Chica, I've had some time to knock heads with a few friends…one in particular…a profiler. He's profiled this killer, from somewhere between late twenties, to early thirties."

"Close to my age," M.J said. Santana went on.

"My friend thinks he would have blended in on campus, as a student."

"What campus?" Sam demanded.

"You're not caught up," Santana said, looking at M.J.

"He was in assembly mode when I came down. I didn't talk to him about it."

"Okay. Sam, we now believe, strongly, the first kill was a student at Mercedes' college, in her second year."

Santana filled in the blanks quickly, and as Sam took it in, he also realized, M.J didn't bat an eyelid at the use of her given name.

 _"Progress. This has to be progress,"_ he thought, smiling on the inside. Santana went on.

"The night Alyssa Anderson was killed, you got off work about nine."

"Yes. It was a Friday night. I remembered. Most Friday nights, I got off at nine, walked back to my dorm and either put in a couple of assignments or study. Even if the weather was bad, it was only a ten-minute walk on campus.

But, Jason came by right before I got off…the guy I was seeing off and on. He wanted to show me some of the shots, he'd taken earlier in the day, for his assignment. I liked his work, which is probably why I'd started seeing him. Anyway, he and then another girl I knew from our club, walked me back to my room."

"Three of you…not what that creep was expecting," Kurt said, disdain dripping from his voice.

"I agree. He watched you and he knew your routine. But he couldn't move on you, when you were in a group. So he took the substitute, on opportunity," Santana said.

"Alyssa," Tina finished.

Sam's face hardened, but then, his eyes softened, as he looked at the woman he loved. Santana continued.

"According to reports, she left the library about nine-thirty. Her car was in the lot…although she lived in a group house off campus. But they were having a party at the group house, so she was expected to attend.

My friend believe she was forced into her car…forced to drive somewhere remote and then raped and killed in it. The killer then put her body in the trunk, drove the car back and left it in the lot.

He would've been bloody, so it's likely he had his own car nearby…a change of clothes and a place to stay. By the time she was found the next day, he was gone."

* * *

Everyone was lost in their individual thoughts after that, at what could have been possible. M.J imagined fear, like the terrible fear she saw in Katie's eyes.

"If he knew my schedule, he had to have watched me for more than a week."

"Possibly, or he asked about it. But he chose Friday, which has proven to be significant. He may been in school himself and taken time off. Or he may have gone to the same university, and developed his obsession with you there," Tina wisely thought out and said.

"I never felt unsafe there. You guys were right before, about noticing things. I think I would have, I would have felt it, if someone that close, had been focused on me. Like someone I saw routinely, on campus, in class or even in the café. But I didn't."

"How did he know you went there?" Sam asked. "How did he know where to find you?" he finished.

"My guess is, if he looked hard enough, or had any decent computer skills," Santana said. "You can find anybody. There's a distinct possibility, you knew him, Chica. In New York."

"Knew him."

"Know him," Santana corrected. She went on. "Even casually. Someone who could have come into the restaurant…that you may have waited on. He could have asked anyone, casually, about you, especially if he's near the same age as you. They'd think he had a crush on you, maybe…something as innocent as that. I could just hear them,

 _"Oh, M.J, such a sweet girl. She's studying photography,"_ or, _"M.J's going off to college in the fall, to study photography."_ And the creep says,

 _"Wow, at Columbia?"_ and it's

 _"Oh no. At some college in Rhode Island. We're sure going to miss her."_

"Yes," M.J said, nodding her head. "It would be easy."

"Jones released another name and location the summer before your sophomore year," Santana said.

"Yes he was all over the press again," Kurt agreed.

"And that book…it got another bump, back onto the bestseller list," Tina pointed out, and then added, "The movie ran on cable."

"I remember. I remember," M.J said. "I was so afraid those first couple of weeks back at school, that someone would connect me to it…and him. But no one did. Or so I thought."

"Something like that could've triggered it. Jones got a lot of attention, a lot of mail, more visitors and more reporters got clearance to interview him, from that July, when he made the deal…right through to October, when the attention waned again," Sam said. All eyes turned to him, and then M.J said,

"Oh yeah, you have the book."

"And I knew of the story…I practically followed it, from the beginning, back then."

"And in November, this man came to Rhode Island, probably for me."

"I have my friend checking all the correspondence, the visitors' logs…eight years back. The records aren't as easy to come by, but this is someone who keeps tabs…who's probably developed a relationship with your father…or believes he has. Just as he believes he has one with you," Santana said.

"He does have one with me."

"Everything you remember helps. Your memory of that first Friday night helps. It gives us your movements and with them, it helps us to see his," Sam said, his eyes showing exactly what he was feeling.

"Did you remember anything else from college?" Tina asked.

"The club trip, my junior year. President's Day weekend. Cold as it gets, we piled into a couple of vans and drove to New Bedford. It was a winter beach theme. We shot for a couple of hours, on the freezing beach.

Then we went into town to eat. I remembered this other student…Hailey, sitting across from me. She said something about how come guys stared at me, that I already had a boyfriend. And she pointed towards the bar, smirking. I looked around, but the guy she'd pointed out, had his back turned.

But then, she got up, I guess she was feeling the beer…she was a senior, so she could order beer…she walked up to him. I even heard her say, he could buy her another beer, that I was taken, but she wasn't. But he just walked out. He didn't look back, he just walked straight out, which annoyed her.

And I did feel something. I felt uncomfortable and exposed. At the time, I put it down to embarrassment, because she was a little drunk, and she said, how all of the girls that looked like me…meaning…hour-glass shaped…got the attention…and how he'd watched me on the beach earlier.

We took some more shots around town, drove to Bridgeport and spent the night at a motel. We also ended up taking more pictures the next day. We were supposed to keep at it and come back the Monday, but there was a bad storm coming in, so we opted to go back and finish up closer to the campus. I never heard about the woman he'd kill, until Kurt told me about it."

"Who was she?" Sam asked.

"She worked at a restaurant where Mercedes had eaten dinner, earlier. She got off at seven that Friday, and went to a yoga class in a studio in town. Her car was still in the lot the next morning, leaving her husband frantic. They found her body the Sunday morning, on a beach where Mercedes' club, had spent that Friday afternoon," Kurt stated.

"It's no coincidence. Did he use her car?" M.J asked. "The way he did Alyssa's?"

"No. He probably had his own vehicle close by…incapacitated her or forced her into it."

"The middle of February," Sam speculated. "Cold, windy and a storm coming in. He sure as hell didn't kill her outside. Maybe he rented a motel room, or had a van."

"There are a lot of motel rooms in that area. But it was reported, that the local authorities checked everyone of them, and came up empty," Santana said.

"He'd had time to think about it," Sam pointed out. "To prepare. He could've put down a tarp, do what he had to do. With a TV or radio on in the background, and she's gagged…who is going to hear her?" he finished. M.J sighed.

"I wish that I had gotten up, gone to the bar and gotten a look at him. At least I could give you a description," she said.

"That Hailey did. Maybe she remembers," Sam said. M.J just shook her head at him.

"She was half lit, eight years…almost a decade ago. In any case, I don't remember her last name and I have no idea where she is."

"Mercy-me, you're forgetting. Our Satan knows people…"

"My friend, the profiler, he works with the FBI. I bet he can find her or know someone who can," Santana said, getting up, to head up to her room, to get on it.

"We will find her, Mercy," Tina said. "She's the only one we know of, who knows what he looks like…or looked like, so it's worth a shot," she finished.

"Do you need a break from this?" Sam asked, concerned.

"No, keep going. Tell me about the runaway in New York…in July, between these two murders." Kurt nodded. And they went through it, plucking at her memories, and then called it, after Sam said to, and got up to grill some steaks.

* * *

As soon as Sam was out of earshot, M.J said to Kurt,

"Just give me the next name you have. So I can think about the time and place and what I was doing."

Kurt took a quick glance in the direction of the doors, leading to the deck, with an uncertain look on his face.

"Sam's right, but I need to keep at this. Leave him to me," she said.

"Alright. Just remember, if he comes at me, you and Santana have to defend me. I like living." M.J chuckled.

"Spring break. Your senior year. You me, the girls, my dad and Carole. We road-tripped it down to South Carolina, and stayed a week in that beach house, my dad found."

"I remember. It rained four of the six-and-a-half days we were there." Remembering made her smile. "We played a lot of Scrabble and rented movies. But…that's nine months, isn't it? Nine months between. Doesn't it usually escalate?"

"It does and I think he practiced between July and April…he probably just disposed of the bodies."

"Like my father. Even when they find him, they might never know how many he's killed."

"Let's think about that, when we get to that."

"But…"

"How do you want your steak?" Sam interrupted.

"Just like before. Medium rare for me, and for Kurt…and well done for the girls. I'll go dress the salad."

* * *

Sam watched her retreating figure, with a gentle shake of his head. He turned worried eyes to Kurt, who held up his hands and said,

"I know, Sam, but she insisted."

"She's so stubborn. She doesn't see it, but she needs a break. Finding out, all that she did today and constantly delving into her past, only to see herself linked with these murders, can't be easy. If...rather...when they do catch him, I hope to God they never let me get within ten feet of him…"

Kurt shuddered, at the coldness he saw in Sam's green eyes, as he made his way into the kitchen, to be with his friend.

 _"God help that maniac, if he ever touches a hair on Mercedes' head,"_ he thought.

* * *

Inside the kitchen, M.J made up her mind to take a break, and take a stab at normal for a while.

Then she'd go back to that rainy week at the beach and whatever came after it. She wouldn't stop.

In the time between, she would request a meeting with the chief of police, where she and her friends could tell him everything they knew and their possible theory.

* * *

 **I really hope this made sense. The eldest of my three sons, isn't feeling well, so I was on nurse duty most of the day and especially last night. He looks and seems better today, so that's something to be thankful for. Plus, it's back-to-school for the three of them...so early mornings and late nights for me. Until next time, much love to you.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thank you once again for your continued support, for this and my other stories, all of which, I will soon resume updating.**

 **Fairly long chapter and a tad disturbing.**

 **I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own 'The Obsession.'**

* * *

When M.J turned to Sam in the middle of the night, he came half awake.

"Just a dream," he said, and slid his arm around her, hoping that she'd settled again. "You're okay."

"He was chasing me. Through the forest, along the beach, everywhere I went. He was right behind me, but I couldn't see him. Then I fell into a pit, which turned out to be _the_ cellar. And when he put the rope around my neck, it was my father." Sam lay quiet for a moment.

"I'm no shrink, but that's pretty straightforward, right?"

"I dream of the cellar more than anything else. I can even smell it in the dream. I never get out of it, in the dreams. He always come back before I can get away…from him."

"You did get away, M.J. And he's not going to get out, ever."

"But he has an apprentice...or a competitor. Whatever this thing is, I can't be afraid, Sam. I can't live afraid. Before all of this, before that night, I used to dream of finding a puppy and being able to keep it, or riding a brand-new shiny bike, I wanted so bad. I'll never go back to being that simple, or that innocent, but I won't live afraid. I did get out of that cellar. I got out and I got Katie out. I won't live afraid of what didn't happen or what's going to happen."

"Excellent. Smart thinking. I'm happy to hear that. Can you go back to sleep now?"

"No." She rolled on top of him. "And neither can you."

Fisting her hands in his hair, she took his mouth aggressively and took her fill of it. And he let her.

"I have a purpose," she said, releasing his lips for a second.

"Yeah…" he managed to get out, just before she ravished his mouth again. "I got that," he finished, as she released him again.

"Not that." Her laugh came out low and husky, and it went straight to his manhood, bringing it to attention. "Oh God, I love your hands on me…so hard and strong. It feels like you could break me in half," she breathed. Those hard, strong hands gripped her hips.

"You don't break easily."

* * *

No she didn't. She'd nearly forgotten that. She scraped her teeth along his jawline, and down his throat, reveling in the taste and texture, gathering pleasure and excitement, from the rapid beat of his pulse against her lips.

The quick thud of his heart against her chest, reminded her, that he'd given her that heart, and because of that, she wasn't afraid of being loved. She wouldn't fear a gift such as that.

Strong, she thought. He was strong, in body, mind and will, and she would never be weak, or ever forget her strength, not while he was around. His strength would remind her, even challenge her, to uphold that strength and keep going.

* * *

She lifted up, her eyes catching the moonlight, reminding her of their first time. Light, dark and shadows, living together to tint the air, to somehow sweeten it.

She raised his hands and brought them to her breasts, to her own heartbeat, and said to him,

"I'm what you need." His response,

"You are." For a moment, she pressed her hands to his bigger ones, holding them in place, and said,

"Everyone should have what they need."

* * *

Moments later, she was out of her underwear, had his off, and his thick, swollen member, planted firmly in her mouth.

From base to tip she suckled him, bringing him extreme pleasure and almost to the brink of the release, he was craving for. The only thing he could do, was to grab her head, to try to control her movements.

When she had him to the point of begging, to be inside of her, she released him with a loud plop, scrambled up his body and took him in, slow, stretching the moment like, a fine silver wire.

They both cried out on contact, stilling, to get used to the feeling of connecting so perfectly.

"God Sam! You don't know what being with you does to me."

"Show me."

* * *

And she began to move, a gentle, sinuous roll at first. It was tortuously arousing, like a smoky, smoldering fire, spreading in the blood.

Sam allowed her to set the pace, that slow burn of a pace, just barely, as he fought to stop himself from simply clamping around her like chains, to take her hard and fast, to get his release.

The pleasure was so acute it sliced through him like a hot knife on butter. The desire was so intense, it seared, like a red, hot fire. And the love he felt was so deep, it drowned him.

As if she knew and was feeling exactly what he was feeling, she smiled, with her eyes closed and said,

"Wait." She continued to roll her hips, keeping him trapped and on the edge of torment. "Just wait. And you can take what you want and what you need. How you want. Just wait, babe."

* * *

He did as told, and while he waited, he watched, barely able to breathe, as her head fell back, and her back bowed. Her arms rose to circle her head, and all movement stopped.

She was like a statue, a beautiful statue, bathed in moonlight, or made in moonlight.

A sound like a half-sob or half-triumph escaped her lips, and she smiled again. Her dark slumberous eyes opened and met his…and that did it.

His tether snapped.

In a flash, he had her on her back and under him, with her arms still over her head, and his hands clamping her wrists. All of the want, all of the need and all of the torment meshed together, inside of him, unleashing a beast.

He drove into her, like a man possessed…perhaps he was. Her shocked, breathless cries, added fuel to his raging fire and he took what he wanted and what he needed.

He took until there was nothing left for either of them. Until their cries ricocheted off the walls and filled the room. And it was everything, for both of them.

* * *

In the morning, Sam scowled at the tie in his hand, as if deciding whether to wear it, or hang himself with it.

"I don't think Dana would care if you didn't wear a tie," M.J said to him.

"No. But…I'm a pallbearer. Her daughter asked my dad and me to be pallbearers."

"Oh. I didn't realize."

She wondered how much harder it would be for him, as she walked into her closet…which needed organizing, since most of her clothes shipped from New York, were still in boxes.

"You don't have to go," he said. Her hand stilled, on a black dress.

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"I don't mean it like that. I mean, you don't have to feel obligated."

It was so much easier to stay at home. To work in a quiet, empty house, seeing as her friends, had to head back home to deal with some unforeseen circumstances, surrounding their careers. And Sam was giving her an out.

"I didn't know her very well, but I liked her. I know I'm not responsible for what happened, but I'm connected. And I know you'll have more friends than I can count there, but we're together. It's not an obligation, Sam. It's respect."

He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, in an appreciative manner, but as she looked at him, she could sense something was troubling him.

She drew closer and stood in front of him, her eyes filled with questions.

"I'm pissed off," he said, tossing the tie on the bed, and shrugging into the white dress shirt. "Normally, I'd shove it down, but not today."

"What are you pissed off about?" she asked, although she knew the answer.

"I'm pissed off, I'm going to carry a really good woman to a hole in the fucking ground."

"I know. And you have every right to be pissed off."

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. She held his gaze and repeated to him, "You have every right to be."

* * *

After a few pecks, they resumed their actions from before. She took up the dress, laid it on the bed and went to the dresser, for a bra and panties.

While she dressed, he picked up the tie again, and resignedly slid it under the collar of his shirt.

"Ties are for bankers and lawyers," he complained. "Or like Elton John said, the sons thereof," he finished.

In her underwear, she turned to him and finished tying the knot herself.

"Uncle Burt taught me. He said every woman should know how to tie a man's tie, facing him. And I'd know why, someday."

She smiled, and smoothed the fabric down, and said,

"And now I do. Look at you, Sam Evans, clean shaven." She stroked her hand over his cheek. "And wearing a tie." She angled her head. "Who are you again?"

He smiled a little sadly and said,

"It won't last."

"And that's fine, too." She pulled his head down and pressed her cheek to his. "This time I'm going to help you through. Let me."

He let out a curse, that ended on a sigh. Then put his arms around her.

"Thank you, baby. Tell me when you need to go. They closed the restaurant for the day. People are supposed to go there after, but you…"

"Just let me help you through, babe."

"Right. You're half…more than half…naked, and I'm not. Somehow, that doesn't seem right."

"I'm about to be un-naked. So, get those thoughts out of your head and leave me be, so that I could get ready."

He pulled her into a kiss, a languid, un-hurried kiss, while his hands found a home on her generous bum. A small whine came from him, when she broke the kiss and told him,

"We'll have time for that later. It's time for me to get ready." He pecked her and released her, with a small pout on his handsome face. "I'll be down in ten minutes."

"You're the first and only woman, I've known, who says that and means it," he huffed.

He grabbed his suit jacket and headed out the bedroom doors leading to the deck.

"Lock this behind me," he shouted back to her. She did, right away, then put on her dress, she hadn't worn in…she couldn't quite remember, and finished getting ready for the second funeral in the Cove.

* * *

'He' waited just inside the forest until M.J and the grease monkey, she was doing it with, drove by in her car.

He waited five full minutes more, knowing that, sometimes people turned around and come back, if they forget something. His mother did it all the time, and once, nearly caught him digging in the fake coffee can, she used, to hide cash from thieves. Not that she'd ever been rob, except by her son.

So he waited, watching the road through the screen of trees, before he hiked it up to the house on the bluff.

He'd park nearly a quarter mile away, in the opposite direction from town. He'd even put a white handkerchief on the side mirror, giving the impression that he'd broken down.

Getting into the house, would be a nice little bonus. He'd seen how she lived and what she had. He wanted to touch her things, and her clothes. To smell her. Maybe even take a little souvenir, she wouldn't miss right away.

He knew about the alarm system, but he'd gotten through that sort of thing before. He'd done a lot of studying and put in plenty of practice.

She may have forgotten to set it…he hoped…something else people did all the time.

And he should know.

More than once, he'd walked right into houses and right into the bedroom, where some dumb bitch was sleeping. He didn't always kill them. He mixed things up, otherwise, brain-dead cops might start piecing things together.

For instance, sometimes he used ketamine. A jab with that and down she went.

Chloroform took longer, but there was something so satisfying about the struggle. Once he knocked her out, tied her up and gagged the bitch…he blindfolded her, if he was planning on letting her live…then, he could rape the shit out of her.

He really liked it when they came out of it, while he raped them. Yes, it was good to mix it up. Kill them or don't kill them…his choice.

Personally, he liked the kill, more than the rape, but sometimes he had to resist. He either beat the crap out of them, or he didn't. Cut them up, or not.

He kept his mouth shut, unless he was going to shut theirs, permanently. There were no traces of DNA, when he wore a raincoat, no voice to remember and no face to remember.

* * *

When the time came to do Mercedes…and that time was coming right up…he'd take his sweet, sweet time. Maybe even keep her a couple of weeks.

The stupid bitch got lucky and got rich enough to buy herself a big house. And was dumb enough to buy one this remote.

He could've taken her before, and he'd thought about it…oh, how he'd thought about it…so many times. But the wait, the long wait was better. And now he was…an aficionado.

Oh, the things he'd do to her. But not today. Today gave little opportunity.

Who knew he'd end up killing the fricking town's sweetheart? He'd heard the buzz…he always made sure he heard the buzz. Everybody was going to her send-off. Nice of them.

He'd never have a better chance to get into the house, to get a lay of the land...like now.

He could take Mercedes there, he was nearly sure of it. He just had to get the grease monkey out of the way, for a few hours…or altogether.

Her friends…no, her _family_ …fuck them…they went back to their _busy_ lives. Good for them and even better for him. He just wanted the lay of the land, first.

He strolled right up the drive, as if he belonged there. He had lock picks and he knew how to use them.

If she had the alarm set, he had a reader that would break her code, before the alarm sounded. If not, he'd just lock up after he was finished and move off. They'd figure it was a glitch, nothing more.

But the reader rarely failed him. He paid good money for it.

* * *

He glanced at the pots of flowers on the front porch and thought,

 _"Home sweet home."_ And wished he thought to bring a little weed-killer, or salt. Wouldn't she wonder _'what the fuck,'_ when her posies croaked?

He heard a dog bark, as he got out the picks, but he wasn't worried about it. As far as he knew, she didn't have a dog, plus, he always carried dog biscuits for that purpose.

But, as he went to work on the locks, the barks grew louder, sharper, making way for throaty growls and wet snarls.

He had a knife...he didn't leave home without it…so if a dog so much as showed its face, and he had to kill it, he would. No damn dog was going to spoil his surprise, although he didn't relish the idea of a dog taking a chunk out of him.

* * *

He reconsidered.

He'd go around the back first, to the glass doors, and if there is a dog, he'd let it see him…he'd get out the biscuits and make friends through the glass.

Hope sprang eternal, as the possibility of Mercedes leaving the doors open at the back, flitted though his twisted mind.

He circled around, noting the windows on this far side…ones he hadn't been able to study up close before. And the trees. They were potential cover.

He took the stairs to the lower deck, seeing more pots of flowers. Yeah, he might just come back with weed-killer and give her plants a good dose for the fun of it.

Then, slapping on a friendly smile, he pulled out a dog biscuit and walked up to the big glass doors.

* * *

He didn't see a dog.

With a snort, he pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves, to check if the doors were locked.

Suddenly…a flash of brown, flew at him, barking, snarling, even snapping. Shock turned to panic and had him stumbling back, throwing up his hands, as if to protect his face.

A dog appeared in his line of sight, stalking him, snarling, as it advanced, leaving him to walk slowly backwards, down the steps, and away from it.

His heart banged in is throat and his mouth went dry, as he trembled in fear.

"Fucker. Fucker," he grumbled to himself. Breathless, he tried that big smile again, though his eyes transmitted pure fear, as he showed the dog the biscuit.

When his feet landed on the ground, the dog was still on the first level, baring its teeth.

"Yeah, asshole," he said, in a friendly sing-song voice. "See what I got. I should've poisoned it, you ugly fuck."

But no matter the tone, no matter the bribe, the dog's relentless barking and snarling, increased.

When he made a testing move, to go to the dog, it peeled back its canine lips and showed its fangs.

"Maybe I'll stick this down your throat instead."

He pulled the knife, and thrashed it around, making stabbing motions with it. Rather than cowering back, the dog continued to advance slowly, barking madly, with creepy blue, feral eyes.

"Screw this." His hand shook, when he shoved the knife back into its sheath, whilst he kept his eyes on the dog and his feet moving.

"I'll be back, you fuck. I'll be back. I'll gut you like a trout and make her watch."

The dog stood its ground, but continued to bark nonstop.

Furious, and shaken, with hot tears and hot rage burning behind his eyes, 'he' slinked away.

* * *

Away from the dog, now, he fisted his hands, as he hurried around the side of the house, and stomped back to the driveway and down the little hill.

He'd be back. And she and that fucking dog, would pay for ruining his day.

* * *

In Sam's opinion, no one had ever wanted to get out of a suit, as badly as he wanted out of his. And once he had, he decided, he intended to toss it into M.J's closet, leave it in there and forget it, for as long as humanly possible.

"I appreciate you staying," he told M.J as he turned up her drive. "I know it was long."

"People really loved her. I think, when you hear as much laughter, as you see tears, it's a true testament to that. People won't forget her. I wanted to stay, which isn't something I say often, about any sort of event that involves so many people, but I truly wanted to stay. And I didn't realize until I did, that I've become part of the community. Or at least, crossed that careful border, into the edges of the community."

Sam parked and sat for a moment.

"You bought this place, when nobody else was willing to put the time, money and vision into it. You shop local, you hired local and that counts a whole lot. You put your art at Charlie's and it's something people notice and take stock of. You're with me and people notice, and take stock of that, too."

"I bet they do. New York M.J and Our Own Sam." She smiled. "I've heard myself referred to in that way, which is why, it surprised me, to realize I'd crossed that border."

"You might always be New York M.J. It has a ring. God, I've got to get out of this suit."

"And I've got to get in and think about dinner. We were longer than I thought we'd be. I wonder where Noah is." Sam glanced over, seeing his friend's truck,

"Around somewhere. The rest will be coming along, to get a few hours in."

* * *

Sam waited, while she unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm. Though he intended to go straight up and ditch the suit, he decided to go out on the lower deck.

Immediately, his dad's dog, Seiko, met him.

It raced towards the back of the house, ran back up the steps and raced back again. Surprise turned to curiosity.

 _"Something's up."_

"Who do we have here? M.J began. "Oh, it's your family's dog. I wonder what he's doing here? Is Dwight around?"

"I'm not sure…there's no trace of my dad's truck. He probably got away…but why did he come here?"

"Maybe he misses you."

"I doubt that. I'll have to give my dad a call. He must be out of his mind with worry."

"Good idea," she said.

* * *

Sam wasn't sure what it was, but something was definitely wrong. He relaxed a little, when he saw the reason for the dog's actions…Noah, already out of his dress clothes and into work mode.

He was standing on the other side of the glass doors, pouring potting mix, into the first two containers. Grinning, he shifted the bag and gave a thumbs up.

"Hey," he said, when Sam walked up to him. "You're sprung!" He laughed, setting the bag down, to pat the dog. "I'm surprised to see him without your dad. He seemed pretty upset, when I first got here. Weren'tcha boy. He was shaky and whining, but he settled down pretty quick, when he saw that I was sticking around."

"Strange."

"I couldn't wait around anymore, for that thing…after the funeral. It's the first time I ever saw Marcy cry…and that…wow. The other guys will be along, I guess. I just decided to get a jump, and clear my mind."

"Yes, you did." M.J walked over and gently rubbed Noah's hand. She looked at the planters, studying them.

Noah was exactly right. They were the perfect size for her needs and just steps away from the kitchen.

"They're perfect, Noah. And I love them."

"Aww. You'll give me a big head, M.J. They turned out pretty good. I've got some herbs, tomatoes, peppers, things like that, out in the truck."

"Ooh, can I take a look? I'd like to go change and plant them myself. It'd be nice to balance out the day, making something grow."

"I hear that. Oh, and Sam? It's been a while since you've put time in on my dad's crew, but you ought to know, not to go stomping around on dirt, just seeded."

"I didn't."

"Well, somebody did, since we knocked off yesterday. No biggie, I'll have it raked out."

"Where?"

"Around the front side. As I said, no biggie, I was just ragging on you."

"Let's have a look. M.J, keep the dog with you."

"We're not going to put you…or whoever…in jail for trampling over topsoil," Noah joked, but led the way. "I'll get those plants, while we're out there. You can carry some, unless you're worried about getting dirt on your suit."

"I might burn this suit."

* * *

It took some doing, but M.J managed to stop the dog from racing after them. She pulled him inside long enough, to shut the glass doors.

By the time, she came out the front door, both Sam and Noah had hunkered down studying the ground. And her nerves begun to fray. And the dog was beside her again.

"Not only did I not walk across here, but my foot's bigger than that, Noah."

"Yeah, I see that, but I figured, since it's coming and going towards the back, it was you. Maybe it's your old man."

"Nah. He hasn't been here in a couple days." He looked up to where M.J fought, to keep the heroically straining dog, from dragging her forward. "Sit," he shouted at it and to M.J's surprise and probably to the dog's, it obeyed.

"Even so, I've got about an inch on my dad. I'm a thirteen, this looks about a ten. Give the chief a call. M.J. Somebody's been out here snooping around."

"Well fuck, Sammy boy," Noah said, rising to his feet. "I never figured that. Maybe that's why the big guy was so upset, when I got here."

Sam circled around, took the curving path of recently set pavers and back. He walked up to M.J, who seemed lost in her thoughts.

"He's on here, right?" he asked, taking the phone from her hand. He pulled up her speed dial list and said, "Go ahead and take the dog around the back, but don't…never mind. Noah, take the dog around the back to keep him away from that dirt."

"Sure. The back door is locked," he said, taking the same path as Sam. "The front, too. I'm going to admit, I tried them, thinking to let the dog in, since he was so upset. I don't think anybody got in. Look, it's probably some busybody just wanting to see what you're doing up here."

"Maybe," M.J said, as she surrendered the dog. "Thanks." When she turned to go in the house, Sam gripped her arm.

"I need to see if anything's been taken, or…" He stopped, and began to explain what he saw to the chief. "Yeah, they're pretty clear. Enough to see the size and tread. Yeah. Yeah, we'll be here." He handed M.J the phone and said to her, "Just wait here. I'm going to check inside."

"It's my house, Sam. My things. I'm not going to stand here wringing my hands, while you go look under the damn bed for me."

He'd have cursed, if it wouldn't have been a waste of his breath.

"Fine. We'll go check inside...together."

* * *

They went upstairs first and she turned into the studio. Even the relief of seeing that nothing had been touched, didn't ease the anger. Still, Sam checked the closet, the powder room and began going systematically, from room to room.

"Nothing's been taken, or moved," she told him. "I know where things are. When you're in the middle of deciding, what you want where, and where to keep it, you know."

"I'm going to check the basement." When she gave him the look, he cursed. "I'm not riding a white horse, okay? Nobody got in here, past the locks, the alarm…and my dad's dog, but I need to check," he stated.

He stripped off the suit jacket and the tie.

"The chief is going to be here any minute. I just want to go down, and take a quick look. You can change out of your dress, or not, but if you want to walk around outside, and see what the hell ever, you're going to have to get out of those skyscrapers." At that, she stepped out of the classic black pumps, she was wearing.

"I'm out. And you're right. No one got in here, and I appreciate you being thorough and checking the basement. I'll change."

"Good." He hesitated. "You know, Noah's not as stupid as he looks."

"He doesn't look stupid…and yes…he's going to start putting things together, when the police come here, because somebody walked across the fresh dirt, that's my lawn." She drew in a breath.

"You can tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"Whatever you think he should know. I'm going to tell my parents…all of it"

"Good." He took her face in a firm grip.

"You crossed that border, M.J, because you wanted too. This is part of being on the other side. I won't be long."

* * *

Alone, she changed into knee-length jeans and a T-shirt.

She still intended to plant, Goddamn it, she'd plant her new containers.

Maybe she was afraid…but she wasn't stupid either. And over that fear, ran a strong, hard line of anger, that'd she'd hold on to. She went out on the deck and saw Noah and the dog playing fetch.

She stood for a moment, looking out at the blue and green she'd made her own.

She didn't have to tell herself, she'd do whatever she had to do to keep it…she already knew.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. I hope it was good enough. Thank you Mowatts87 and Emma, for your kind words and your concern. My oldest is back on his feet, but now, the youngest is sick. It happens and I expected it. Whenever one gets the cold or flu, they all end up with it. Once or twice, one of them have escaped it...such is life. Until next time, much love to you.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you for your continued support, for this and my other Samcedes stories, all of which I will soon be updating.**

 **Standard disclaimer.**

* * *

M.J didn't know the other agents in their dark suits and sunglasses, but she doubted they were much different, from the ones who had swarmed over her house and the woods, fifteen years ago.

She hadn't stood up with them, as she did now, but had watched the news reports at a friend's house, while her mother slept. Now, she was an adult, and this was her house and her ground.

* * *

She brought out cold drinks and started a jug of sun tea, on the deck, because it reminded her of summers in New York.

She didn't interfere or ask questions…yet, but she was present.

Chief Michaels stepped over to her, and adjusted his ball cap.

"I'm sorry about this Miss M.J. The fact is, somebody could've taken advantage of the house being empty, just to satisfy their curiosity. The Bluff's got a lot of people curious."

"But you don't think that." He inhaled deeply and let it out audibly.

"I think we're going to take every precaution and turn over every stone. The FBI has people who can study these footprints, and give us a sense of height, weight, shoe size, even the make of it. If this is who we're looking for, he made a mistake."

"Yes he did."

Maybe not the same mistake the chief meant, but he made one coming into what was hers. He made one, by helping her pump that anger over fear.

* * *

She went over to Noah's truck, the agents would be sending him away, as they had the others, who'd come to work.

She decided to get the plants, and at least take them around to the containers. When she found none, she assumed Noah had taken them around for her, already.

She took careful steps, as she made her way around the far side of the house and onto the deck.

Tears swam in her eyes, when she saw the plants and pots, lined up on the deck, and her own garden gloves, spade and rake beside them.

"Noah's such a sweet man," she said to herself. "I have to remember, to stock up on his favorite drink, Mountain Dew."

* * *

While the agents and the officers did their thing, she did hers.

She thought about Seiko, Dwight's dog…he was so relieved to have him back. It was so funny, to hear a grown man, so deliriously happy, about a dog.

"Was it you, Seiko? Did you chase him off? Had to be. Someone was watching out for me…and Dwight, he was in the right place at the right time," she quietly said.

* * *

The story was, Dwight and the family had left the funeral and decided not to attend the social afterwards. Mary was too upset. As usual, Seiko traveled with them, almost everywhere.

They were en-route to their home, which isn't too far from the house on the bluff, when Dwight heard a noise on the truck. As soon as he got out, Stevie got out too, checking with him.

Of course, the dog did too.

While Stacy was occupied with her phone and Mary, consumed by grief, had her eyes closed, the dog wandered off. It was only after they were a stone's throw away from their home, that they realized, he wasn't in the cab at the back.

"Thank you, Seiko, big fierce dog. I'm not going to let him scare me," she softly said, and then, "If he tries it again, I'm going to have to take a chunk out of him myself."

She rose, and walked to her pretty new containers, to plant.

* * *

Sam found her, tramping the dirt around a tomato plant, as if she really knew what she was doing.

"Hey, pretty lady," he sweetly said. "They're almost done out there, and said there's no reason the landscapers couldn't get back to work tomorrow."

"That's good." She picked up a pepper plant and asked. "Do you know why I'm doing this?"

"It seems obvious, but tell me."

"Besides the obvious, I'm making a statement and it all starts with what I'm doing here. I'm planting these herbs and vegetables. I'm going to water them, watch them grow, watch the vegetables flower and watch the tomatoes and peppers form. Then I'll harvest them and eat them."

She paused and pondered her thoughts for a moment.

"I have to do some research, but I think, you can plant things like, kale and cabbage in the fall."

"Why would you?"

"I can make some very good and interesting dishes with kale and cabbage."

"You're going to have to prove that to me."

"I will."

* * *

She kept planting, while he went in, came back out and stood watching her.

"He ran away. That bastard ran away," Sam began, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"The footprints. You don't have to be an expert to conclude, or at least speculate. The ones going toward the house, and toward the side, are different from the ones leading away. Leading away, they're farther apart, and with a kind of skid…as if he was moving fast, even running."

"I bet he _strolled_ around the back here. The son-of-a-bitch. Cocky and confident. I don't know if he intended to break in, or just look, but he wasn't feeling cocky and confident when he left. Seiko scared him."

"I think he came around here, and would've gone in, if the door hadn't been locked…or maybe, he'd planned on getting in anyway, but the dog scared him off…defending what's ours…for us."

* * *

Something lifted in Sam, when she spoke in the plural, making him feel complete. With everything inside of him, he allowed it to slide, and kept his focus on the subject at hand.

"You should know, that the scenario you just outlined, is the one those trained feds and cops outlined, a few minutes ago. It's how they see it."

"Well, aren't I fucking clever?" He arched an eyebrow, surprised at her outburst.

"I think so."

"I'm so pissed off. I should probably level that out, before I plant anymore. I don't think anyone should plant living things, when they're so incredibly pissed off. They're likely to end up with bitter tomatoes."

At that, she yanked her gloves off and tossed them down.

* * *

"He used her again, Sam. He used Dana…he used the fact, that everyone, who's usually here, would be at her funeral. That makes me sick inside."

"Then, think of this instead. That one moment, that Seiko stuck to his guns, and used it as an opportunity to be disobedient, paid off. He stuck to whatever it was, that his doggie brain told him to do…just like you stuck. And he scared the bastard off. He didn't leave here strolling, M.J, just like you said, he left with his heart knocking and his knees shaking."

"Damn right, he did," she said, as she paced the deck. "If he tries it again, he won't get to leave, with his heart knocking…he'll be going down bloody. If he thinks I'm an easy target, and he can come for me, whenever he damn well pleases, he miscalculated."

"I get the reason for being mad, as long as it doesn't come with stupid and careless." She whirled on him, eyes dark and full of fire.

"Do I look stupid and careless?"

"Not so far." He kept his cool and his calm, hoping to quench her fire

"And it's not going to change." She calmed a little, telling herself to keep the rage in a back corner, until she needed it. "Did you tell your parents yet?"

"No. I was going to tell them tonight. Why?"

"Do you think they can come over? I want to tell them sooner, rather than later. The twins can come, too, if they want."

"I'll make it happen, if you're sure."

"I am."

"What time?"

"Whatever works for them, will work for me. I'm going to finish these containers, and clean up, so that I can be ready, when they are."

"Okay. Come here for a moment."

She did as told, eyeing him suspiciously. He pulled her in and tipped her head, so that she was looking directly at him.

"I love you Mercedes Jones," he said, waiting on her reaction, to him calling her by her full name. When he saw a ghost of a smile on her lips, he knew she would be fine. "And if this fucker thinks, for one moment, that I'll ever let him touch a hair on your precious head, he's sadly mistaken. I will kill him…with my bare hands, if I have to. That's a promise, not a threat."

At that, he kissed her, deep and long, pouring all of what he was feeling into the kiss.

* * *

Where do you start, when you want to confess your blood ties? That was the question, that was laying heavily on M.J's mind.

The scarcity of furniture in the living and sitting rooms, posed a threat. Sitting around the dining table, didn't cut it either, so she opted for the one place, she herself, felt most relaxed.

But, did she serve food? What sort of canape suited the moment, for God's sake?

 _My father's a serial killer. Try the crab balls._ Dear God, this shit was twisted.

From that night in the woods, to going into that cellar and then, to finding her mom…Marcus Jones' 'last victim'…so to speak...to the day she bolted from the movie theatre, came to mind, as if it had just happened.

 _I let myself be his victim…I'm done with that._

* * *

So, she put a tray together, consisting of cheese, flatbread crackers and olives.

The preparations kept her busy, from her thoughts, until Sam got back from a roadside call.

After a sweet hello kiss, he asked,

"Do you know how many people don't pay attention to, or just don't believe the fuel gauge?"

"How many?"

"More than you think, so they end up paying more than double, what the gas would've cos,t in the first place. Then they bitch about that, like I should make the service call a fricking favor. Are these any good?"

 _Look at him,_ she thought, _heading towards scruffy again, and still as hot as ever. It's just not fair. And he's not even trying._

M.J smiled at him. He was annoyed with some stranger, who'd neglected to get gas and now he's unsure what to make of sesame and rosemary flatbread. He was such a riot.

"You brought me lilacs." He looked over, the frown on his face deepening.

"Yeah. Wasn't I supposed to do that again?"

"Maybe. But you brought me lilacs in the blue pitcher. That was _when_ …"

"When what?"

 _Okay, he's not really listening. I've grown up with a few friends and I know when a male isn't really listening. All the better._

"You told me when...and I'm telling you."

"Okay," he said, with a skeptical look on his gorgeous face.

"Stolen lilacs in a blue vase."

"It wasn't that big of a deal."

"You're wrong. It was a very big deal, one of the biggest deals of my life…because that's _when_. That's _when_ Sam. I knew I was in love with you. I didn't know what to do about it."

 _He's paying attention now._

His gaze snapped to hers, hot, green and intense.

"I've never felt, what I feel for you before, and I've never believed, I could feel it…so I didn't know what to do about it. I said it before…and I meant it…but I have a better idea now. You told me months ago…that you loved me and I believed it then, too…but the day you brought those lilacs…I felt it…really felt it and it blew me away."

"What's the better idea?"

"To be glad you're in love with me, too. To be grateful, really grateful, it happened now, after I'd already realized, it was time to stop running. Or at least try to. To be happy it happened here, where we both want to be. And to hope. To be brave enough to hope, you'll want to stay with me, here."

Words failed Sam Evans at that moment.

He calmly walked to her, having no interest in the flatbread anymore, and claimed her lips in a deep passionate kiss.

Shortly after, he pulled back, looking down at her with a smile on his face.

"Lilacs?"

"Lilacs."

"Noah needs to work one into his design."

"He has. It's going out back, so we can see it from the deck. I told him I wanted to plant it myself."

"We will plant it." Her throat closed and her eyes brimmed.

"We will plant it," she said, repeating him. He stepped to her again, and held her face in his hands.

"I'm moving in. You're going to have to make room." The first tear spilled over, and she said,

"There's plenty of room."

"You say that now." He kissed the tear away, then did the same with the second, as it trailed down her other cheek. "Wait until I tell my dad to build a garage."

"A garage?"

"A guy's got to have a garage." He brushed his lips to hers, nibbling on her bottom lip. "A three-car garage…on the north side of the house. We can put a side door on the laundry room…"

"You've given this some thought."

"I was just waiting on you to get used to it. I love you Mercedes."

Her name sounded so wonderful on his lips. She wanted to tell him earlier, but didn't get a chance to. She lifted her hands to his wrists, squeezing them.

"You do. I know you do. Thank God, you do…and I love you, so much. We're going to build a garage…wait, a three-car…"

That was as far as she got, before his mouth claimed hers, again…before the kiss swept her up and swept her away.

"You're what was missing," he said to her, afterwards. "Not anymore."

"You told me you made me happy, and you do, but it's more than that. You've helped me to understand that I deserve to be happy. A thousand hours of therapy, never got me all the way there." She sighed and drew back. "I'm still screwed up, Sam."

"Who isn't?"

Just then, the sound of a vehicle pulling up and stopping, turned their focus. She drew a breath. "I'd say your parents are here."

"Alright. It's going to be okay. Have some faith."

"I'm going to borrow some of yours. My supply tends to run low."

"Try regular fill-ups," he said, just before he pecked her lips. "I'll let them in."

* * *

Whilst Sam went to let his parents in, M.J took the tray out, and set it on the folding table. After that, she went back for glasses, plates, and napkins, and smiled to herself, when she heard Mary Evans' laughter.

Just as she opened the wine, Mary appeared.

"Great timing! Oh, M.J, every time I get out here, there's more done. It must be crazy living in the middle of it, but I bet it's amazing to see it, blossom into exactly what you want."

"Yes, it is, not the crazy part, the other part." She replied, smiling. "I'm so glad you could come. I know it was last-minute."

"It worked out great. We had our neighbors over for dinner, and the kids went out with a group of friends after. Fun for all." She moved in for a hug. "I'm sorry you've had trouble. Dwight told me somebody was poking around out here, while we were all at Dana's funeral. I'm sure it's just some kids trying to get a look in the house."

"I think it was…something else. That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay. You seem really upset. I shouldn't make light of it." M.J grasped Mary's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm fine. I thought we'd sit outside."

"Perfect. Oh! Look at these planters…Noah built them? They're wonderful. You're really making this deck a beautiful outdoor living space. Dwight, come take a look at these containers."

"Nice," he said, as he came in with Sam. "How're you doing, sweetheart?" he asked M.J.

"I've had better days. Then again…" She looked at Sam. Love given and received, outweighed everything. "Let me get you some wine, Mary. Then I'm going to dive right into this, and get it done."

"It sounds serious."

"It is."

"Oh God, are you sick?" Immediately, Mary grabbed M.J's arm. "Is something wrong, or are you…"

"Honey and mom," were heard simultaneously, from Dwight and Sam, as Dwight drew her back and quietly said, "Come on, sit down."

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll shut up." M.J poured wine for Mary and herself, but couldn't sit.

"Okay straight in," she said. Sam moved closer to her and stood beside her. "Jones is my maiden name. I changed it a long time ago, just going by M.J…which really stands for...Mercedes Jones. My father is Marcus Tyrone Jones."

She wasn't expecting blank, quietly expectant looks, and it threw her off.

* * *

"Not everybody knows who that is, Mercedes," Sam pointed out. "And not everybody gives a damn."

"It seems familiar, like I ought to know," Dwight said.

"You do, dad," Sam pointed out.

"Marcus Tyrone Jones," M.J continued, "Killed twenty-six women…that he's admitted to…somewhere between 1987 and 1997. He was arrested in August of 1997."

"Jones. Yeah, I remember some of that. Back east somewhere…Sam, that was the terrible story you were fascinated by as a kid," Dwight slowly said.

"Yes, that's it," Sam replied.

"He raped and tortured his victims and eventually strangled them," M.J said.

"Your father?" Mary asked, with one hand gripping her husband's. She stared at M.J. "Is he alive?"

"Yes. They don't have the death penalty in that state."

"Did he escape? Is that what's happening now?"

"No. No, he's in prison. He's been in prison for sixteen years. We changed our name and moved away. But it doesn't change the reality of it. You've been great friends to me. You've helped me to make a home here…and…I love your son…I needed you to know."

* * *

A sob escaped Mary, and Dwight softened, as he looked at his son and M.J, the woman he had come to adore, as if she was his own daughter.

"I remember some of it…mostly because of Sam," he said. "They made a movie. I caught it on TV a few years ago," he finished. His gaze rested on M.J. "You found that girl he had. Is that true? You found her and helped her…got her to the cops." M.J shook her head.

"Yes I did. I never saw the movie or read the book, so I don't know how accurate they are. But I did. I helped her."

"She followed Jones into the woods, one night, went into the cellar in the ground, by a burnt-out cabin and found the girl," Sam said.

"Her name is Katie," M.J added.

"Katie. She found her, got her out, walked miles through the woods and got her help. That's how they found him and that's how they stopped him," Sam said.

"Sixteen years?" Mary asked, eyes huge, and face pale. "But you'd have been…Oh God M.J."

She sprung up, shoved her wine at Dwight and threw her arms around M.J.

"Oh my God, poor little girl. You were just a baby."

"I was nearly eleven. I…"

"A baby," Mary repeated. "I'm sorry, so sorry. God! Did he hurt you? Did he…"

"He never touched me. He was strict and sometimes he'd leave for days at a time. But he never laid a hand on me, or my mom. He was a deacon in the church. He worked for a cable company. He mowed the lawn and painted the porch. And murdered women."

Mary tightened her grip, swaying them back and forth.

"You never think about the families of…you never really think about them. And you didn't have to tell us," she said, as she drew back. "It has to be hard for you to talk about."

"I didn't plan on telling anyone...just live here. I just wanted to be here...in peace. But…" She looked at Sam. "Things changed."

"She figured you'd probably pull away," Sam started. "And look at her different."

"Sam…"

"No," he said. "Some people have pieced it together, one way or the other, and did that or went the other way, salivating for all of the nitty-gritty details. And she packed it up and took off."

"Some people aren't worth spit. Is that what you thought of us?" Mary demanded. "That's insulting."

"I…"

"You should apologize." Caught out, in that unguarded moment, M.J said,

"I…I'm sorry." With a ghost of a smile on her pretty features, Mary said,

"Accepted. Dwight, accepted?" Dwight half-smiled at his beer and said,

"Of course."

* * *

When M.J covered her face with her hands, and fought for composure, Mary stabbed a finger at her son, then to M.J. She fisted her hands on her hips, until he walked over, and put his arms around M.J.

"Cut it out," Sam softly said to M.J, knowing exactly what could happen.

"Oh, give her a minute," Mary snapped. "Where's my wine?" She swung back to her husband, to take it, as she swiped tears from her eyes.

"I need a minute, too…all I can see, is a little girl, only a few years older than Stacy, dealing with what no little girl, should ever know exists. If you don't want anyone else to know, M.J, no one will. You can trust us."

On a huff, she pulled her from Sam's arms and said,

"Hell, men are no good at times like this. We're going inside for a few minutes. And I'm taking the wine."

Both Evans men, stood there, staring, without saying a word for a few seconds.

"She's one in a million," Sam said, as his mom pulled M.J into the house.

"Which one?"

"Both. They both are. We're two very lucky men." Dwight slapped palms with his son and pulled him in for a one-armed hug.

"Yeah, we are. Now, son, tell me what Jones has to do with Mindy and Dana, and whoever was around here today."

"Okay, I will."

* * *

About mid-morning, M.J was just getting herself another coffee, when she heard a knock on the door.

 _Couldn't be Noah, or one of his crew, they're out back._ She walked to the door and opened it, to Chief Michaels.

"Morning M.J. I'm un-announced, as usual," he said with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Aww, that's okay Chief. You're welcomed, any time." She ushered him in, leading him to the kitchen. His eyes caught the mug she had under the coffee machine.

"Am I interrupting your breakfast?"

"No. This is my second mug for the day. Breakfast was at five. Would you like a cup? And something to go with it?"

"I'd appreciate that very much. It's been hectic, and sometimes I forget to eat. Thank you."

"I know exactly what you're speaking about. How do you feel about eggs Benedict?"

"Right about now, I'd take anything you've got. But you don't have to go to any trouble…"

"I was in the mood to cook and Sam's pretty fond of it. There's an extra plate in the warmer, and you're welcomed to it. No trouble at all."

"Coffee and a hot breakfast? What more could a man ask for?"

* * *

Minutes later, M.J and the chief were sitting on the lower deck, drinking coffee in her case, and him, enjoying both his coffee and eggs, whilst he updated her on the latest events. He was saying,

"We know he wears a size ten Wolverine Sentinel. There's some wear on the treads, so he's had them for a while."

"You found that out, already? From a boot print?"

"It was the feds. It's what they do in the Bureau. They've pinned him between one-sixty and one-sixty-five pounds and between five-ten and six feet…going by the shoe size, depth of print, and stride. He's most likely around twenty-eight or twenty-nine. That's a hell of a lot more than we had a few days ago."

"Now we just have to figure out, who I know, who's average height and weight, about my age and wants to kill me." She held up a hand before the chief could respond. "I'm not being sarcastic. It's something I've been racking my brains over."

"You may not know him, or not realize you do, but he knows Jones. I'm going to be going over all the visits and correspondence, sometime today…Then I'm going to go see him."

"You're…you're going to Maine?"

"I have to. It's highly unlikely, for anyone to be obsessed with Jones' daughter, and has been killing in a way that mimics him and hasn't had contact with him."

She braced herself.

"Should I go?"

"It may come to that, M.J, but no. Let me make the first move. If we get to the point, that we believe you talking to him could help, can you do it?"

"It's something I've thought about and asked myself. And Yes, I can go back…I can see him. I can do that to save myself and other women, this pseudo Jones might target. Chief, it hasn't been the fear of Jones…rather, not primarily that…that's keeping me from going back. It's been the need to deny it. Maybe I had to keep denying it, until I could accept it, fully. I allowed it to define me in too many ways. I'm not going to let it define me anymore. I told Mary and Dwight, and they're okay…it's okay."

"It's a hell of a good step, towards defining yourself. You made the first one buying this house. You shifted your lines then, Miss M.J. And you keep shifting them, and making your own. You did what you needed to do, until you could…"

"Sam loves me," she blurted. A smile blossomed on the chief's face.

"I noticed."

"I'm adjusting to having a man who loves me…and who loved me enough, to wait until I was ready to shift the lines. And…I was able to tell him I love him. As desperately as I want normal, I never believed I'd have someone who knew everything about me and still love me. Someone who could get passed my walls, so that, I could love him. It feels…miraculous."

"He's who I'd pick for you, if I had a vote."

"Even though you don't, it means a lot. Thank you…he's moving in. Not just staying here, but moving in. God." With a hand pressed to her heart, she blew out a breath. "That's huge for me."

"What are your feelings on it?"

 _A shrink question, as much as a concerned father…but even that's okay._

"Nervous. Not scared, just nervous. And happy. And baffled, because, apparently, we're now building a three-car garage."

"Sam is a great guy and it makes me happy, to know he's found the equivalent of him…and his soul mate."

* * *

 **Heading for the finish. Thank you whoknowstv, for pointing out my mistake. M.J is supposed to be twenty-eight years old. All of this time, I have it in my head, that she's twenty eight. Sometimes I catch myself saying she's twenty six. Jokes on me. I hope this was worth your time. Much love to you.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Thank you once again for your continued support. This is the penultimate chapter, so there's only one left. However, I invite you guys to check out my other Samcedes stories, if you haven't done so as yet. For those of you who have, I'll be updating very soon.**

 **Standard disclaimer**

* * *

Within a day, Sam moved everything he needed, into the house on the bluff.

The books presented the biggest challenge. The library couldn't hold all of them.

"I can't imagine this house being too small for anything," M.J said.

Sam shrugged, studying the shelves, now filled with books and the tubs on the floor, still full of them.

M.J tried looking at it from another angle.

"You don't want all of your books in one place, anyway. We should scatter some around."

"There are too many to scatter. And don't even think about saying, I should get rid of some."

"Wouldn't think it." Maybe she had, just for an instant…and just as quickly, rejected the idea. "I just don't know where to put them. They don't deserve to be stuck in tubs either. How will I know what's in there, that I want to read?" she asked.

"Maybe my dad, could do another wall of books."

"I'd love a wall of books," she considered. "But I don't know where to put it."

"The basement. You're putting in a darkroom down there, right?"

"Yeah, sooner or later."

"I could use some office space. I don't need much, just somewhere for a desk and some files."

"You don't want an office in the basement, Sam."

"Why not? Works for me," he countered. "You'd be out of my way and I'd be out of yours. Plus, there's a hell of a lot of space down there. Plenty for a wall of books, too. I'll handle all of the expenses and whatever comes with it."

Which included, in his mind, doors leading out to the yard. But he didn't see the point of front-loading that on.

"I've got money, Mercedes. Investing it here, instead of another place, makes more sense. Plus, I just got a renter. James is moving into the apartment over the garage. He works for me. He's the gangly guy, with the pitiful goatee."

"Yes, I met him. You…you already rented it?"

"Yes. James graduated from trade school in June, and he wants his own place. And I like having someone over the garage. It's a good deal on both sides, as it comes mostly furnished. You don't want some of the crap I have, in there."

"But, don't you?"

"I want the books. They're nonnegotiable," he said, idly picking up a worn paperback copy of _The Illustrated Man._ "Did you ever read this?" he asked.

"I saw the movie."

"Not the same." He pushed it into her hands. "It's good. Anyway, unless you've got other plans, or want to think about it, I can get my dad, thinking about office space and a wall of books."

"Other than the darkroom, I don't have any plans for the basement."

"Good. I can get started on that. Are you worried about what you've gotten yourself into?" he asked her.

"No. I'm more wondering why I'm not. And I guess, since I have some actual furniture coming tomorrow, we could scatter some books, or at least consider their final location."

She stuck the book in the back pocket of her jeans for later, and went to pick up a tub. But he beat her to it.

"They're heavy," he said, taking it.

"Okay. The little sitting area off the living room, is a good place to start," she said. She led the way through the quiet house. Just him and her.

* * *

With Noah and his crew gone for the day, the house didn't seem smaller, she realized.

Now that she lived with a man, it seemed like, that was always what the house had in mind. It felt natural.

She mentally rearranged the sitting room furniture, she'd yet to buy, as she studied the space. Some of Sam's pieces would work, add in a funky plant stand, with an interesting houseplant, and…

"There's an open cabinet, with four shelves…in the basement. I was going to use it outside for plants, but it would work right here for a bookcase…with knick-knacks worked in. You know, like a couple of photos, and some ornaments."

"I guess, you want me to get it."

"Of course. What's the point in having man around, if he doesn't get things from the basement?" The incredulous look on Sam's face was almost comical.

"Right."

"Oh, you know, now that I see it here…in my head…Cecil has this old radio. The dome-shaped vintage style one. How cute would that look on top of the case? It doesn't work, but…"

"Doesn't work, doesn't mean it can't work," he said, cutting her off. She threw a playfully proud look his way and said,

"And what's the point in having a mechanical man around, if he can't fix a vintage radio, that would be perfect in the sitting room? I think yes. And I'm getting used to it already."

"I'll get the case. How about, if I see if I can get used to drinking your wine, while we set it up?"

"Excellent idea."

* * *

Minutes later, they were drinking wine, and chatting, as they loaded books on the shelves.

"Did you talk to Marcy," M.J asked.

"Yeah. She's pissed. Not at you," he replied, reading her face clearly.

"Jesus, Mercedes, give her some credit. She's pissed that this bastard has been stalking you, since college. Pissed he killed Dana. And now that she's aware, she'll be looking. Lot's of people frequent Marcy's and many of them aren't locals. They stop in for a drink, some easy food, or on those Friday nights to listen to the band. But she's definitely looking."

 _For a thirtyish guy, with average build, in Wolverines._ She thought, but let it go.

"The chief is going to Maine, to the prison, with someone from the BAU."

"It couldn't hurt."

"They have some names." Sam dropped the book, he'd just pick up and asked,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just didn't get around to it. I'm sorry babe…I didn't recognize any of the agents. They're going to interview anyone who sends up a red flag…anyone who's corresponded with, or visited my father, multiple times…or whose correspondence sends up those red flags."

She picked up a book, and set it on the shelf.

"They'll look into all of it. Lifestyle, travel and occupation."

"Great. Nobody's ever looked for this…creep…not like this. And I don't believe he's so damn smart, he'll slip through, now that they are."

"The chief and you have that belief… I'm still working on getting there. But he could be gone…from here, I mean. He could have moved on, at least for now," M.J said.

She was sadly mistaken.

When the body of Kandy Fisher, part-time waitress, part-time prostitute was discovered on the side of the road, half mile from the house on the bluff, they knew he hadn't gone far.

* * *

The best thing about a press pass…and 'his' was legit…was, how it got you where you wanted to go.

That little whore from nowhere, stirred things up again, by bringing reporters from New York back, even some national stringers. And 'he' was right there with them.

 _Hell of a story that would be._ He thought. If he wrote it himself, he'd win the fricking Pulitzer.

 _Up yours, New York Times, Washington Post and all the other creaky dinosaurs, who wouldn't give me the time of day, when I wanted a job._

Now papers were the dodo of news and blogging was the way to go.

* * *

He could work anywhere, and did.

He'd actually doubled back and covered some of his own work before, but this marked the first time, he'd been right on the spot, before, during and after.

While he found it tremendously satisfying, and knee-slappingly funny, he knew he couldn't stay in the area for much longer.

Things were getting too hot, he thought, as he recorded the droning chief of police… _asshat,_ and the media liaison from the FBI… _arrogant bitch._

Time was coming, he could feel it…to wind up the odyssey. Time to take Mercedes for a ride, have some long conversations and a lot of fun. Then end her.

After that, maybe he'd take his show on the road. Maybe up to Canada for the summer or down to Mexico for the winter.

Footloose and fancy-free…and plenty of targets to shoot when the mood struck.

 _In memory of Mercedes Jones._

And one day, he would write the story…or write a book. Not for money. He'd write and self-publish the book, that rubbed everything he'd accomplished, in the faces of the asshats and arrogant bitches.

But he'd have to wait until he settled somewhere…like Argentina.

* * *

He took notes on his tablet and even took some pictures.

He liked focusing in on the chief, he especially like that.

 _Hey, there, you fuckhead asshat. I'm going to kill your newest citizen. I'll rape her every way there is to rape, first, then I'll strangle her, just like her old man should have._

Maybe I'll send old man Jones a picture of her. There were ways to smuggle things in…and he'd made a point of finding them. That would be the whipped cream on top.

Yeah, he'd do that and go one better. He'd publish all of the pictures online, every one of the bitches he'd done. God bless the internet.

That way, everyone would know he'd outdone Jones. Outdone them all. The Green River Killer, the Zodiac? They were nothing next to him.

* * *

Deliberately, he threw out a question during the Q&A, so that all eyes would be on him.

 _Look at me, look at me, look at me!_

He would have asked a follow-up, but the ugly bitch beside him, tossed a question first.

* * *

Later, he wrote up the story, for the bull-shit Daily Crime blog, he freelanced for, on his laptop in the pizzeria, because, most of the media types retreated to motels, or the coffee shop, that looked out over the marina.

"Can I get you anything?" He looked up, and saw the pretty blonde, he'd targeted and lost. He thought:

 _You should be dead._

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Ah…gotta get out of my head," he said, offering a big smile. "I forgot where I was for a minute."

"I can come back."

"No, that's okay. I could use a Coke, and, yeah, I could eat something. How about the Calzone…loaded."

"Sure."

She went away and returned with his drink, in under two minutes.

* * *

"Are you staying in the area?" she asked. "You've been in before."

"For now, yeah. I'm a reporter."

"Oh." Her eyes went sad and blank. Immediately he coated himself in sympathy.

"Sorry. I guess you knew the…Dana Larrier. She worked here."

"Yes. I did. And yes, she did."

"I'm really sorry. If there's anything you want to say…you want me to write about her…"

"No. No thanks. Enjoy your coke."

When she scurried away, he had to hide the smile, that was threatening to show on his face. Maybe he'd snatch her up after all. Maybe he'd circle back for her, then make Mercedes watch, while he did the little bitch, with her tight ass and tight tits.

 _Come save this one,_ he imagined saying. _This is not like Katie this time. And when I'm done with her and when I'm done with you, I'm going to pay your good friend Katie a visit. I'll finish what your old man couldn't._

* * *

He worked right through the Calzone, putting together another piece on spec and listening to the chatter around him.

Small towns were the same everywhere, he thought. If you wanted to know what went on, you just had to sit in the same place long enough, and you'd know.

He learned, that the mechanic was moving in with the photographer, into the big house on the bluff. He learned people were scared and some of them were impatient with the police. Why hadn't they caught him? They asked.

 _Because he's smarter and better and he's more than they are,_ he wanted to answer.

He learned that some people speculated, the killer lived in the national forest, like a survivalist. And thought:

 _No. He's sitting right here, assholes._

He heard that, Mercedes' new fuck buddy, was playing at the bar on Friday night. So he began to make his plans.

* * *

'He' saw her come in. He'd been watching and waiting.

The moment she stepped into the bar, he felt a tightening in his loins. She was wearing, a pale-yellow shirt and snug jeans, which hugged her ass and curves, in all the right places.

She stopped to say something to a tall gangly guy, with a horrible goatee and felt nothing but pure rage, formed within him.

The mechanic and his grease monkeys, hammered away on some ancient Rolling Stones bullshit and she began to make her way forward. So 'he' angled his body away and picked up his beer.

* * *

Grabbing a stool at the end of the bar, hadn't been a problem.

Most people opted for tables…but he didn't. A solo at a table, drew unwanted attention. A guy sitting at the bar, alone and drinking a beer, didn't.

He shifted on the stool, just enough, to keep her in his line of sight, as she worked her way through the tables, to sit with the mechanic's asshole of a father and his asshole of a wife.

He'd thought about killing the wife…Mary…just for the hell of it. But she really wasn't his type. Maybe if he ever decided to come back this way, just for the memories, he'd pay her a little visit.

But he didn't have time to play with her now. Now, it was all about Mercedes, and that sweet piece of ass, the Lord gave her.

So he'd watch for a while, finish his beer and leave a decent tip. Nobody remembered a decent tipper, just the lousy ones, or the big ones.

After that, he'd have things to do. It was going to be a big night.

* * *

"The boys are not only good tonight, they're really, really good," Mary said. Delighted, she nudged M.J's hand and winked at her.

A smiling M.J turned, and locked eyes with Sam and thought,

 _Oh, yeah, I'm with the leader of the band._ After laying a hand on Mary's shoulder, she leaned in, and said,

"I'm going to the bar. Are you guys ready for another round?"

"We could be," Mary answered. Dwight smiled and beckoned her over.

"Listen sweetheart, Sam's on call tonight, and that means you could be alone, at some point during the night. I know all about Seiko's heroics and I want to give him to you, for the night…" he paused for a beat, when she held up her hand, to protest, then said, "It's nonnegotiable, darling. Seiko will be going home with you and Sam tonight."

She looked at a grinning Mary Evans, who winked at her, and threw her arms around Dwight, embracing him.

"Thank you for looking out for me. You guys are the best."

"Aww, sweetheart, you're so welcomed and so worth it."

She pecked his cheek, went to Mary, did the same and moved off to the bar.

* * *

Because she wanted to connect with Marcy, she aimed for the middle, idly scanning as she went.

She saw a man at the far end, with the bill of his cap pulled down low, and his head down, over the nearly empty beer glass in front of him.

And as she moved, she felt him watching her.

He rubbed his fingers up the bridge of his nose and shouldered away from her.

A shiver went up her spine, like a warning. Despite it, rather, because of it, she changed course and started towards the other end of the bar.

"Hey, M.J!" Charlie popped up from a table, grabbing her into a hug. "We sold the print of Sam on the deck. Ten minutes before closing."

"That's great."

"We need more."

"I'll get you more."

"Can we have a sit-down next week, and talk about it?"

"Sure. Email me and we'll set it up."

M.J broke away in time, to see the man in the cap, casually walking towards the exit.

Nothing, she told herself. Probably nothing.

* * *

Changing directions once again, she walked up to the bar and Marcy.

"That guy walking out, was giving you the eye," Marcy said, before M.J could speak.

"I saw that. He was siting alone, at the end of the bar."

"I didn't like the look of him."

"Why?" M.J asked. Marcy shrugged and continued to mix a dirty martini.

"He warmed that seat for nearly two hours and nursed one beer…and had his eye on the door half the time. He kept his head down and wouldn't look anybody in the eye."

She shrugged again, and added two fat olives to the glass.

"But he watched you, all the way to the table."

"I couldn't get a good look at him. Did you?"

"Not really. Max! Order's up! He just kept his head down, like I said. I'd say, he's early thirties, dark hair under that cap and long skinny fingers. He couldn't keep them off his face. He was very nervous, if you ask me."

She pulled the next ticket, set two beer mugs under taps and drew them both, at once.

"Maybe it's me who have the jitters, between one thing and another." M.J shook her head. Something was up with this guy.

"Are we alright? You and me?" she asked.

"No reason for us not to be. Ted! You're up! Are you here to chat or drink?"

"Both, I guess. A round for the table. Beer for Dwight and wine for Mary. And I'll have the same as her. I'm sorry Marcy."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. If you want to talk, we'll talk when I don't have to yell back at ya. My boy up there loves you. Anything else, is just noise."

"I'm really going to try, not to screw it up." Marcy barked a laugh and set two glasses of wine on a tray. "Aren't you the positive thinker?"

"Yep. That's pretty positive for me."

She carried the tray to the table, and served the drinks. Max breezed by, grabbed the tray and kept on breezing.

Taking a sip of her wine, M.J turned her attention back to the stage. Sam watched her and that gave her a feeling she could live with.

* * *

Pleasantly tired, and absolutely relaxed, M.J settled into Sam's truck, with her other companion for the night, Seiko, in the back.

Her car would be driven home by Noah, sometime…he had a date and his vehicle wasn't fit for it.

Jake leaned in the window and asked,

"Sure you don't want a post-gig brew, man?"

"Nah. I'm on call, as of ten minutes ago" Jake shook his head.

"One beer isn't going to impair you, Sam."

"One beer could cost me my license. I'll catch up with you guys later."

* * *

On the road, M.J said to him,

"You shouldn't feel like you can't decompress, because I'm here."

"They ask me the same thing, after nearly every gig, when I'm on call. Plus, I'm ready to head home. And there's another way to decompress." She smiled.

"Is that so?"

"I'll show you."

After they took Seiko out of the truck, let him make his rounds and settled down for the night, he did.

He showed her why home and bed was a much better idea than a beer.

* * *

When his phone went off at four-fifteen, Sam sincerely wished he'd stuck James, on the graveyard shift.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit." He grabbed his phone and stared groggily at the read-out. "Evans. Uh-huh. Right. Okay, got it. About fifteen minutes."

"Do you have to go?" M.J sleepily asked.

"Yeah. Dead battery…probably. Between here and town, so I'll check it, jump it, if it comes to that, and be back here in half-an-hour."

"You want coffee?" she mumbled.

"Like the air I breathe, but I'll get it. Go back to sleep."

"Don't have to tell me twice," she managed and did just that. Even Seiko didn't get up.

* * *

Sam pulled on his clothes and went down to grab that coffee, before he headed out. He used a travel mug, downing the coffee as he walked out to his truck.

 _Thirty, forty minutes,_ he thought, as he gave the house, one last long look, before he got into his truck. _I'll be back_.

The doors were locked, the alarm was set and the dog was right there.

She'd be fine.

Still, he wished he had dumped the shift on James.

* * *

He knew about the guy at the bar and had noted him himself. The way he sat alone, head down and the way he'd kept a bead on M.J when she'd come in.

Then again, he'd noted a guy sitting alone at a table, one who fits the basic nondescription and who'd given M.J a long study, when she'd walked through the bar. Until a woman had come in, hurried over and snuggled up with him.

This murdering bastard didn't break into houses anyway, he reminded himself. But he flicked a glance in the rearview as he drove away.

"2013 Ford Escape towing a 2006 Fun Finder RV," he muttered. "Can't miss that," he finished sarcastically.

* * *

He slowed, rounding the turn and indeed couldn't miss it.

An SUV and camper, both sat on the shoulder of the road, with emergency lights blinking. Sam slid in, nose to nose and watched the man get out of the driver's seat.

The man lifted his hands, waving one. Then he turned back to the SUV and quickly spoke to someone inside, as Sam got out.

"Evans?"

"That's right."

"Mark Richter. You were really quick. It just won't start. I got my kid in the back and we were heading to Olympia, to camp for the weekend. I just pulled over…he had to pee…and it wouldn't start back up. It just clicks...No, we're not there yet, buddy." He rolled his eyes. "Just go back to sleep."

Sam hit his own flashers and said,

"Go on and pop the hood. I'll take a look."

"I thought I'd be stuck here till morning, then I'd never hear the end of it from my ex. I hope to God I don't need a new battery."

* * *

With the hood latch released, Sam went around to the front, while the man leaned into the SUV again and said,

"We're fixing it right now. It shouldn't take long. Think of it as an adventure, right, buddy? And we're nearly there. Promise."

"Why don't you try to start her up?" Sam said, with his head under the hood.

"Sure, I can do that."

There was just the faintest hint of excitement in his tone, to have Sam pushing back, and bracing. But the blow to the side of his head, flashed pain, flashed lights and then shut out, into darkness.

"Or I could do that. How about a couple more, for good measure?" '

'He' lifted the crowbar over his head, just as he caught headlights beaming ahead of the turn. Swearing, he lowered the crowbar and gave Sam a shove with his boot, to roll him off the shoulder of the road.

The car slowed and the Good Samaritan rolled down his window.

"You alright there, pal?"

"Sure am. Just getting a jump, but thanks for stopping."

"No problem. Have a good one."

As the car pulled off, 'he' wiped sweat from his face. That was too close and one good crack would have to do. No time for more. He slammed the hood, got back in the SUV and drove towards the bluff.

* * *

'He' checked the time, and smiled to himself. He was right on schedule. He'd pull the camper off the road, just far enough up her drive, so any cars passing wouldn't give it a thought, but not so close that she, or that damn dog would hear.

He'd thought about poisoning the dog…where the heck did she get a dog anyway…He even researched methods of doing such a thing, but they all took too long, and were too unpredictable. He needed a fast way to end it.

He'd thought about shooting it, which, while satisfying, would be too noisy and give her a chance to run, or hide. Stabbing it was out of the question. There was no way he was getting too close to those teeth.

So he kept back, to let her go through the routine, he'd watched countless times already. She always came out the bedroom doors and head to the kitchen. All he had to do, was wait.

* * *

M.J was awakened by the dog.

She checked the time, seeing that it was five o'clock on the dot.

She reached out, hoping Sam had come back. Then she reminder herself, he'd only been gone about a half hour.

"I'm up. I'm up. I bet Dwight is still sleeping," she grumbled, as the dog did a pre-dawn dance. She let him out, then considered crawling back into bed. But her routine was too ingrained.

She grabbed cotton pants and a tank, pulling the top on as she walked out of the bedroom.

She'd make waffle batter…after coffee. If Sam hadn't gotten back by that time, she'd text him and get his estimated time of arrival.

Was she being too clingy, or smothering, to text about that? She told herself no. She didn't feel clingy, or smothering, so she'd text, if necessary.

* * *

In the kitchen, she hit the lights, put a mug under the machine and punched the button, for a shot of espresso, in the coffee.

While it brewed, she got out a bowl, eggs, milk, flour and sugar…then stopped gathering ingredients, the minute the coffee was ready.

Taking it, she walked to the accordion doors, wanting to smell the morning.

But even as she started to open the glass, she heard a movement behind her.

* * *

 **That's it for this chapter. It's ended on a cliffhanger, but the next chapter will continue where this left off. Much love to you.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Thank you for your continued support. This has been a wonderful experience and the start of something equally as wonderful. Thank you for taking this journey with me, and going the distance. I appreciate it more than I can express.**

 **We've come to the last chapter. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Obsession, but I've had fun spinning it to my satisfaction.**

 **Here goes...**

* * *

M.J whirled, saw 'him' and threw the coffee, mug and all. The mug hit him, dead center in his chest and the hot coffee splashed into his face.

He shouted, dropped the rag in his hand and gave her enough time to leap toward the knives.

She grabbed one, and spun back…and slowly lowered it.

"Yeah, you know what they say, about bringing a knife to a gunfight." He gestured with the .32 in his hand. "Put that down. You've ruined my shirt. Let me tell you, you're going to pay for it."

"They're closing in on you."

"Yeah, you'd like to believe that, but the fact is, this is all just the way I pictured it."

"Why?" she demanded.

"We'll talk about it later. We'll have plenty of time." He grinned, and pushed his fingers up the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not…" It clicked, the gesture, the sarcastic quirk of his mouth. "Matt?"

"Took you this long." Obviously pleased with himself, he grinned. "Aww, don't feel bad Mercedes. I had Lasik…a nose job, a decent haircut and bulked up a little."

"How could you…we were friends."

"Bullshit. You wouldn't…didn't give me the time of day, until I headed up the yearbook committee and got you onto the school paper."

"This is because I didn't pay enough attention to you? In high school?"

"Please, like I carried a torch. I've had plenty of women. Girls…old ladies." He bared his teeth in a smile. "All of that. I figured out who you were. I figured it all out and I made a deal with you. You lied, and you sent that fucking cop over, to tell me to keep it zipped."

* * *

At that moment, an angry email from him, surfaced in her memory.

 _First you sic that cop on me, now this! You're a lying bitch, and I'll tell everybody who you are, where you are and what you are. I gave you the idea. You stole my article._

She wrote back only once.

 _My life, my story and I never agreed to your deal. Tell anyone you want._

But he didn't tell anyone, and M.J sent Det. Fabray flowers as a thank you. After that, she changed her email address, her phone number and buckled down, to focus on her schoolwork, her photography and her _family._

* * *

How had she missed the madness in his eyes, all those years ago? How could she have not seen what she saw now?

"I didn't make any deal."

"You fucking did. Then you took my idea. You wrote the story yourself. It should've been my byline. It was my story."

"It was never yours."

"Because you're Marcus Tyrone Jones' daughter?"

 _If he lowers the gun, just lower it. There's a chance. I'd have to be fast, but I'll take that chance._

"It's always been about my father."

"Maybe, maybe he kicked it off, because I knew, way back, that I'd put your father in the shade. It's more about your mother."

Surprise and confusion marred M.J's features.

"My mother?"

"I said we will talk later. Get moving."

A short analysis told her, he didn't want to shoot her and he didn't want to kill her, at least not fast. So she took the initiative, by planting her feet and staying her ground.

"My mother? Tell me what my mother has to do with any of this."

"Fine. I'll give you another minute. But if you give me any trouble, I'll shoot you in the knee. It won't kill you, but it'll hurt like hell."

"My mother," she said again, discreetly checking the time on the oven clock behind him. And thought, _Sam. Where is Sam?_

"Your mother…other than birds, and some stray cats I've killed, she was the first dead body I'd ever seen. Man, it was a revelation! She was cold…and her eyes…Man, her eyes. I got such a boner." He laughed at the look of disgust on her face.

"It's just wiring, Jones. I was born for this, just like your old man was. I knew when we were on the floor with your mother's cold, dead body, I'd do you one day. Then I figured out who you were, and that made it so fucking sweet. Now move, or I'll kneecap you. Maybe I will anyway. I've never started out that way be…"

* * *

He jerked back when the dog charged the door, like a raging bull. The wild barks of Seiko and his shouts, exploded in the air.

When he swung the gun toward the door, M.J threw up her hands, saying,

"Don't. Don't. I'll go with you. I'll go."

She positioned herself in front of the door, with her hands up. There was still time, still a chance, she concluded, desperately. Sam would come back. She could get close enough to try to fight, to get the gun away…or, far enough away, to run.

"Out the front, and fast, or I swear to God…"

Seiko shoved the opening wider, gathered himself and leaped.

As the gun swung back, M.J threw herself over the dog.

The shock of pain, dissolved her legs. She heard the dog's sharp yelp, as fire burned in her side. The room spun, as she fell, with the dog beneath her.

"Bitch! Stupid bitch, stupid bitch," Matt yelled. M.J saw his face swimming over her, and the mad fury in his eyes.

"This is the way you want it? You want a bullet in the brain? Maybe that's how it was always supposed to be."

She stared at the gun, mildly puzzled. Why did it look so small? Like it was a hundred miles away. Then it was gone. She heard shouting, thought something crashed, but again, it was all so far away.

Nothing really to do with her. Not when she was floating away.

* * *

"Look at me! Damn it, Mercedes, open your eyes. Stay with me. Don't fucking leave me."

Pain seared back, like a cattle brand in her side. She cried out against it, and her eyes flew open.

"That's it. That's got your attention. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby. I have to keep pressure on it," Sam said, as he fused his mouth to hers. "I have to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Sam." She lifted a hand that didn't feel like her own, and touched his temple. "You're bleeding. You're bleeding a lot."

"Yeah. You, too. Help's coming. Just look at me…and talk to me baby."

"Were you in an accident?"

"No. You're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"I can't…" Her memory flooded back, washing through the pain. "Seiko. The dog. The dog."

"Stay down and stay still! He's okay. He's going to be okay. Hear that? Hear the sirens? Help's coming."

"He was in the house. He was going to shoot the dog. I couldn't let him shoot the dog. He…the gun. He has a gun."

"Not anymore. Don't worry about him. I broke his nose for ya," he murmured, laying his brow to hers.

"I was going to fight…going to try…but the dog… he came to save me. I need to close my eyes."

"No, you don't. You need to look at me. You need to stay awake. Back here!" he shouted. "Hurry, for Christ's sake. I can't stop the bleeding."

"High school," she said.

"What?"

"Matt Merchant. Tell the chief."

At that, she slid away.

* * *

M.J went in and out in the ambulance. She caught snippets of words, and mixed voices. She felt Sam's hand clutching hers, and once, when she turned her head, she swore she saw the dog, on a gurney beside hers.

"Matt Merchant," she said again.

"Got it. They have it. They have him. Just take it easy," Sam said.

She surfaced again, moving fast, with light blurring overhead, voices and more voices shouting out medical terms, like an episode of Grey's Anatomy. She heard,

"I'm going to give you something for the pain." And she said,

"Yes, please."

* * *

Furious that they'd block him from going in with M.J, Sam argued loud and strong, with the burly nurse, who stood in his way. If she had been a man, he would've decked her. He considered doing it anyway.

"You need to get that dog out of here and you need that head wound examined."

"The dog's hurt. He's been shot, for God's sake."

"I'll give you the number for an emergency veterinary clinic. But you have to…"

"You're going to take care if this dog."

"That's exactly right," Chief Michaels said, as he strode up, with his ID held out, and his face set. "The bullet is evidence and needs to be removed. The dog is a material witness and needs to be treated immediately."

"He's a fucking hero," Sam bellowed.

"That's right. I suggest you get a doctor, get this dog prepped for surgery, or I swear, I'll arrest you for obstructing, what's become a federal investigation."

* * *

They still didn't let Sam in with M.J, but they loosened up enough, to let him sit with the dog, while they removed the bullet and treat the wound. And while they cleaned his own wound and stitched up his scalp.

"He's going to be fine," the surgeon who'd volunteered for the procedure, said, as he neatly closed Seiko's wound. "It's going to be sore and he'll limp for a few days. I've given him some antibiotics and I'll write up a report for your vet. He or she, should do a follow up."

"Thanks."

"He'll sleep another hour, I'd say. He looks like a good dog."

"He's the best. Please, God, I need somebody to find out about Mercedes. Mercedes Jones. Just…shit!"

"I need you to hold still." The intern doing the scalp stitching looked at the surgeon for help.

"She's doing a good job, Mr. Evans. Just give her a few more minutes. I'll check on Ms. Jones, shortly." Before he could reply, the chief came in.

"How's it going in here?"

"Both patients are doing well. One more cooperative than the other," the intern said.

"Where is she? How is she? Fuck! Are you mining for gold in my scalp?"

"They're working on her. But she's going to be fine. It was through and through. Through her, and into Seiko."

"Here's your evidence, Chief," the surgeon said, handing over the bullet in a small dish.

"Thank you." The chief took the dish with the spent bullet, looking contritely at it. "She lost a lot of blood and a bullet never does you a favor, but it didn't hit any organs. I'm sorry Sam, but they're going to want, to keep her overnight…probably want to do the same with you."

* * *

Sam readied himself for battle, if need be, but his mind was made up.

"I'm staying with her, so's the dog."

"It's already arranged. Are you up for giving me a statement? It can wait, if you're not."

"I'm okay. Just tell me, where's this Merchant now?"

"In a cell in the Cove, but officially in federal custody. He's being examined by a doctor, and having his injuries treated. Among other things, you broke his nose, knocked out three of his teeth and cracked a couple of ribs."

"Did I?" Sam looked down at his hand, saw his raw, swollen knuckles and flexed his aching fingers.

"I know you love her, Sam, so tell me what happened."

"I should've seen it coming…I mean…I did see it, but it was too late. I actually bought that little-Bobby-in-the-backseat bullshit he concocted. When I came to, I knew he'd gone after her. I called you while I drove back.

After I pulled in behind his damn camper, I ran for the house…and I heard a gunshot." He stopped and closed his eyes, as if it was happening all over again. "I heard the shot and I heard her scream.

When I ran into the house, he was standing over her, ranting, with the gun pointed at her head. I went crazy. I pulled him off and beat him into unconsciousness. She and Seiko were laying there…just laying there, bleeding. There was so much blood. I grabbed a couple of dish towels and put pressure on her side...like they say you're supposed to. It hurt her…I hurt her."

"No, Sam. He hurt her. You did well," the chief corrected.

* * *

M.J was in dreamland, had to be.

She dreamed she swam, slow and lazy, through the palest of pale, blue water. Surfaced and floated. Skimmed under to glide, up and down, in and out, with everything warm and watery.

Once in the dream, beavers cut down trees, with chain saws, deep, rhythmic and buzzing.

She surfaced, and thought she saw a dog, snoring away on a cot beside her. She laughed in her sleep and heard Sam's voice say,

 _I wouldn't mind some of whatever they gave you._ She smiled and slipped under again.

* * *

A while later, she was thinking about moonlight falling in slants over the bed. Of how it felt to make love with Sam, over and under those moonlit slants. Opening her eyes, she saw it was sunlight, sliding through the slats, over the window.

"There she is. Are you staying with me this time around?"

She turned her head and met Sam's eyes. He looked so tired, she thought…and pale, under the scruff. Bruised…badly, on the temple.

"We…had an accident?"

"Not exactly."

"I can't remember what…" She turned her head again, and saw Seiko, watching her from a cot. "He is sleeping on a cot. And we're…we're in the hospital. 'He' shot me. He shot us."

"Simmer down," Sam said, pressing a hand on her shoulder, to keep her in place.

"Matt Merchant."

"Yes. Yes, I remember. I remember all of it. He got into the house."

"Yes. You let the dog out, and he waited. He came in that way, and caught you in the kitchen. They're saying you went to school with him."

"Yes. He was a year ahead of me. We were on the yearbook committee and we ran the school newspaper. He was with me when I found my mother. He said…he told me...it was a revelation. And seeing my mother's body, opened up things for him…excited him. He said it was wiring, he and my father were born to be what they are. All this time…"

"Don't worry about it now."

"How bad am I hurt? Don't sugarcoat it."

"Well, baby, they did the best they could." Her mouth dropped opened and he laughed. "That ought to cure some of that pessimism. You're fine. As fine as anybody who's been shot. He hit your left side, just above your waist…and the bullet went right through and into the dog's right hindquarters. He's fine too. I'm saying this right now and I'll tell it to my dad. He is never to wear no Cone of Shame." She reached out and stroked Seiko.

"Not ever. He can have the Pants of Heroism."

"You jumped in front of Seiko, didn't you? He was going to shoot the dog and you jumped in front of him."

"Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Yeah. I would." Shakier than he wanted to be, Sam blew out a breath, and said, "I definitely would."

"How did you get hurt? Your head, You were covered in blood."

"Head wounds bleed a lot." Realization hit M.J.

"He was the call…that's it. The breakdown. It was him. He could've killed you."

"He didn't."

"He could have…"

"He didn't. Get used to it." He pulled her hand to his lips and held it there, rocking for a moment. "I've still got to get used to him nearly killing you…but we're both right here. Jesus, Mercedes. I didn't know I could be that scared and live through it. I didn't know how bad it was…I couldn't tell. You were just laying there…and the blood…"

"Did you save me?" He pressed his lips to her hand again.

"You'd have done the same for me."

"In a heartbeat. But, we're both right here." She smiled, as Seiko nosed under her other hand. "We're all three right here. And Matt?"

"In custody. I don't know where they're taking him. Reporters are all over it. I spent some time reading on my phone last night, while you two were resting. "It's all over the news. They revealed your connection to Jones. I'm sorry."

"I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. I should never have let it matter so much. How long do I have to stay here? I want to go home."

"They'll want to look you over, but they said, you could probably go home today."

"I need to go home, Sam, but I also need to see 'him' first. I need to see Matt. I never saw or spoke to my father, but I'm going to see and speak to Matt."

Sam wanted to say no, that she shouldn't, but as much as he hated the idea, he knew she needed closure.

"Okay. Let's see about getting you out of here, and see what the chief can do."

* * *

It took two hours, a lot of paperwork, a lot of warnings, and she had to leave in a wheel chair, and use the side entrance, where the chief was waiting.

He helped her to stand and just held her.

"I'm so happy you're alright, Ms. M.J. There's so much I need to tell you and explain, but it'll have to wait, until you are better. But it's wonderful to say, we've got the bad guy. Thanks to Sam, you and Seiko. Dwight must be so proud."

With his help, she eased into the backseat, with her four-legged hero beside her, while her other hero, rode in the front with the chief.

"I should warn you. The press are all over town. If you do this you can't avoid them completely."

"It doesn't matter."

"That bastard had a press pass," the chief said as he drove. "He came to briefings, booked a motel room…though he stayed in the camper. Even when he wasn't using it for other reasons." In her mind, M.J was saying,

 _He was just a smart, nerdy kid, who'd gone to a school dance with me…who'd put a couple of clumsy moves on me, that I easily brushed off. And a monster all along._

"He held his victims there… like Jones and the cellar," Sam concluded.

"Yeah. Different campgrounds, different names. He's collected plenty of ID's over the last several years. He's got skills, computer skills," the chief stated.

"He always did," M.J threw in.

"He kept a log of his victims…their names, locations, dates and photos of them. We've got enough evidence to put him away for a dozen lifetimes. You'll never have to worry about him again," the chief told her.

"I'm not and I won't. Sam, did you tell my family I'm okay?"

"Yeah. I talked to them. Don't worry."

"I don't want them to worry. I'll call them as soon as I get home."

"Then, you're taking one of those pills, Sam said. And zoning out."

"I won't argue with that one. Chief, are you still going to see my father?"

"I am, but that can wait."

* * *

He drove into town, and pulled into the spot, closest to the station house, the one reserved for him.

The minute Sam helped M.J out of the car, reporters rushed towards them. She said,

"Seiko too. He should see the dog too."

* * *

Chief Michaels opened the station doors for them, and turned to the reporters and said,

"Every one of you, keep back and stop yelling, or I'll have every one of you arrested, for disturbing the peace. This is my town and I'll do it."

He stepped in and closed the door, taking M.J's hand.

"This is your town, too. Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"

"Thank you. And yes, this won't take long."

* * *

As she walked, she compared the police station from her childhood, to the one now. She surmised, it wasn't that different from the one back then.

They'd have put her father, in one of the cells in the back, behind the steel door.

It hurt to keep her back straight, but she'd deal with it. She needed to walk in, unbowed.

When she did, Matt rolled off the bunk, where he was sprawled. And despite the blackened eyes, the bruised, swollen and taped nose, and the split lip, he smiled, showing gaps from missing teeth.

"Asshat, grease monkey and your little dog, too. Afraid of me, Mercedes?"

"Not in the least. I just wanted us all to have a look at you, in what's now, your natural habitat."

"I'll get out." He snapped, as Seiko growled low in his throat.

"No, you won't."

"I'll get out and come for you. You'll always look over your shoulder."

"No, I won't." She laid a hand on Sam's strong arm, feeling it vibrate. "Would you give us a minute," she said to him.

He looked at her, his green eyes holding her brown ones. And a silent conversation passed.

"Sure."

But Sam stepped up to the cell first, whipped a hand through, as quick as lightning, banging Matt against the bars. She couldn't hear what Sam was murmuring in his ear, but it drained the color from his face.

"Fuck you! I should've beat you to fucking death."

"But you didn't," Sam said easily and stepped back. He looked at M.J and said to her, "You don't move from this spot, unless it's to step back."

The seriousness of his tone and the look on his face brokered no argument from her.

"Don't worry, babe." She took his hand, and kissed his bruised knuckles. "I won't. Promise."

She turned to the chief, who wasn't a fan of her idea either, but he knew she needed to do this.

"I'll be at the door, with Sam."

* * *

M.J waited, studying Matt, seeing the boy he'd once been and the monster he was now.

"They might write books about you," she started.

"Damn right, they will."

"Even movies. You can have the sick glory your kind enjoys. I'm fine with that. But you and I, and everyone else, will know that, when you came for me, you lost. You lost, Matt. I put my father in a cell and he once meant something to me. Now I've put you in one and you mean nothing."

"You got lucky. Next time…"

"Dream about it. I hope you do. Every cold, dark night of your life, dream about me."

"No, you'll dream about me."

"No, I'll forget you, just like I forgot you years ago. I'm the daughter of a monster. Monsters don't scare me. Come on, Seiko. Let's go get you a Milk-bone."

"Come back here! You come back here, I'm not finished with you."

"But I'm finished with you."

She kept walking, then turned, Sam's words echoing loudly in her ears. Matt didn't know what hit him, until he saw her retreating and shaking her hand.

"My nose! My nose. You broke it again. Fuck!"

This time she kept walking, just as the door flew open and Sam rushed in, with the chief hot on his heels. They both blew out, simultaneous breaths.

Sam met her and brought her into the circle of his arms.

"Feel better?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. But Oh God, I'll feel better once I get home and take a pill."

She closed her eyes on the drive home, so she could focus on pushing through the pain. She only had to get home now, and let everything go.

* * *

She breathed out a sigh of relief when the car stopped.

"I definitely need the drugs, but I'd really like to sprawl out on the deck for…Whose car is that?"

Before Sam or the chief could speak, the front door of her house flew open.

"Oh God. Oh God." Tears spilled from her eyes, as Kurt yanked open the car door.

"Don't even think about getting out by yourself. Sam, take her inside."

"You came, you're here. You're all here. How? No, you can't carry me, Sam. I'll walk."

"You're not walking anywhere," Kurt said, eyeballing Sam.

"Don't worry, I've got her," Sam said. He slid his arm under her legs, and wrapped the other around her back, gently lifting her.

"Take her right up to bed. We've got it all ready for her."

"No, please. I'm okay. I'd really like to sit out on the deck. I need to hug all three of you."

"Two. Satan couldn't come. She almost got arrested…that mouth of hers…I'll tell you about it later, but she sends her love and a stack of razors."

She laughed. It hurt to, but she did.

* * *

Tina appeared, with tears flowing freely from her eyes. No words were spoken for a few minutes as the two hugged it out.

"I'll get pillows," Kurt said, rushing off, with his eyes brimming with tears.

* * *

Minutes later, after a thorough perusal of M.J's body, Tina said,

"I made pink lemonade." M.J's eyes brightened.

"With crushed ice?" she asked. She took Tina's hand, as Sam carried her to the deck. "When did you come? How did you get here so fast?"

"Private jet. We've got connections," Kurt said, with two pillows and something else folded, in his arms.

"You mean, you have connections, Kurt." Tina said, smiling.

"Okay, you got me. It's Blaine. He's loaded…well, his family is. The jet is theirs," Kurt admitted.

He turned to the chief, who was just standing and observing everyone, with a smile on his face.

"Thank you, Chief Michaels, for clearing everything, with your people. They allowed us in, and Sam got a crew in to…"

M.J's eyes snapped to Sam's and he said,

"Yeah, it's clean."

* * *

Kurt fussed with the pillows, and a light throw he'd snagged on his way out of her room.

"There. My sweet diva. All comfortable," he said, with tears spilling unchecked, down his porcelain features.

"Don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm okay."

"She needs a pill. I'm sorry," Sam said, and finished by saying, "But she really needs the pain pill."

"I'll get her some lemonade to wash it down. Do you want lemonade?" he asked Sam.

"I'd kill for a beer."

"I'm going to get you a beer. Chief?"

"I have to go. I'll be back, but I have to go right now."

"Can you make it for dinner? I'm going to make something spectacular," Kurt said.

"I can't promise anything, but I'll make a special effort to. Thank you. Take care, Ms. M.J."

* * *

Kurt turned to go inside, his eyes red, but his tears dried, and embraced Sam.

Caught by surprise, Sam looked into M.J's wet smiling eyes and said,

"Ah." She silently whispered,

"It's okay."

"You are now and forevermore a hero to me," a sniffling Kurt stepped back saying. "She is the light of our lives." Taken aback, Sam replied,

"She brightens up mine, too." Kurt smiled.

"This man…so handsome," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at M.J. "He needs some ice for those knuckles. I hope you beat the crap out of that vicious little shit."

"He broke his nose, knocked out three teeth and cracked a few of his ribs," M.J said.

"Well done," Kurt said.

* * *

Tina returned with a tall glass filled with crushed ice and frothy pink lemonade, garnished with a twist of lemon. She handed it to M.J and handed a beer in a pilsner, to Sam. Then, as Kurt had, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"She's our best girl," she said, sniffling. "And we're forever in your debt."

"Don't forget Seiko. He's a hero, too," M.J said. "Oh God, Sam…your parents. Did…"

"They know everything. They've been by to see you at the hospital…but you were down for the count. I told them to give you a chance to get settled before they bombard you. You know how my mom can get. I think she's upset with me, but she respects my wishes…"

"Okay. But they are family, so they can come by anytime." He didn't respond, but took out a pill bottle from his pocket, tapped one out, and said,

"Take this."

"Actually, I want to hold off until…"

"Take this," he said cutting her off. She sighed defeatedly, but swallowed the pill. Kurt and Tina at that moment, fought to keep the smiles off their faces.

"Nobody makes pink lemonade like you, Tee," M.J said.

"Thank you, Mercy. Can you eat? Something soft and soothing. Like cheesy eggs on toast?" Tears welled in M.J's eyes.

"My favorite sick-day meal, Tee." Tina smiled.

"I'm going to make you some eggs, both of you. And then I'm going to fix this amazing dog, something special. No kibble for you today, my brave boy."

Seiko sent her a look of adoration and laid his head on her foot.

"Some beef. We'll call it, Beef a la Seiko," she said.

When Tina went in, Seiko limped after her. Before Sam could sample his beer, Kurt bustled out with a Ziploc bag, full of ice.

"Here now. Why don't you sit on the glider? That way, Mercedes can put her legs in your lap. You'll ice your hand, drink your beer and look at this beautiful view. It's the best day of our lives. How's your pillows, honey?"

"They're fine. I'm fine."

"I'm going to help Tina with the eggs. Call if you need anything."

* * *

M.J smiled when he went inside. She sipped her lemonade and said,

"It's starting to feel like a dream. Did you know they were here?"

"The chief told me. They flew in early this morning. Let me see your hand, baby." She did as told, liking the way he gently massaged her sore fingers.

"They'll be alright. Just a little sore."

He placed the bag of ice on them for a few seconds, before his phone rang. He ignored it, until it rung off, and had to set the ice aside, to dig it out of his pocket, as it started to ring again. He looked at it and said,

"I'll answer later. I've been getting calls and texts for hours. Everybody wants to know how you're doing, to come see you, to bring food, flowers and God knows what else."

"Everybody?"

"Name somebody. I bet they've called or texted."

 _Like family. Friends and community could be like family, if you let it happen._

"We could have some over. Kurt loves to cook…but it's nice they want to. I'm just tired. The pill's already kicking in."

"Tomorrow. Some can come tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it."

"That's probably for the best. It's okay, now."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I'm not going to ask what you said to 'him' but thank you for whatever you said, to drain the blood from his body."

"You finished him off."

"I did. And I'm finished. I'm where I want to be, with who I want to be with. I'm done worrying about blood ties and how people I don't care about, react."

"Good."

"And I love this spot. I love looking out at the water and knowing I will, day after day."

"It's a great spot. We should get married down there in the backyard."

"It's a great spot for…What?"

"Fall's nice…with all of that color." Contemplatively, he sipped his beer, staring out over the water. "October. That'd give you time, to do what women think they need for it. Flowers and a dress…whatever."

"Married? That's…"

"How it ought to be," he finished. He rubbed his big hand casually, up and down her calf. "You've got until October, to get used to it. That's long enough, in my book."

M.J stared at the handsome fool in front of her.

"You actually consider that a proposal?" she asked.

"I think it's perfect," Kurt said from the doorway, then wiped his eyes and stepped back inside.

"I'll get you a ring and we'll make a good life here."

"I haven't said I'd…"

"You will," he easily said. "I love you, Mercedes. That's the start, the finish, and everything in between." He looked at her, with those strong green eyes. "You love me, too."

"I do. I really do. I just never thought about getting married." She took his injured hand, and laid ice on it again. "But I think I could get used to it."

"Good. October. Anything else is negotiable."

"Kurt and the others are going to want one hell of a show." Sam shrugged.

"Why wouldn't they? Shows are fine, as long as there's this."

He leaned over and touched his lips to hers. As long as there is love, she thought, sighing into the kiss. And a good strong place to build a life together. A life of sunrises and lilacs, of friends and quiet moments, and a really good dog.

"Now, I want you to get used to the idea of us...having six kids," he said, with the biggest smirk on his face. "Ow."


	31. Epilogue

**Thank you so much for your support throughout this journey. You guys welcomed me into your Samcedes family and have stuck with me to the end, of this. For a first time story in this fandom, I received tremendous love and excellent reviews, that, not only made my day, but inspired me to keep going. I apprecitae it more than I could ever express. I don't know if Nora Roberts would recognize this story...probably some things, but I wanted to put my own spin to it. I hope I succeeded in doing that. To all of you who guessed the killer was Matt, give yourself a pat on the back. It was hard not saying anything. I didn't put Rutherford as his title, because I don't know that much about his character and he seemed like a nice guy. Thank you once again.**

* * *

On a peaceful Saturday evening, in the month of October, Mercedes Jones, walked happily down a beautifully decorated aisle, escorted by none other, than her uncle Burt Hummel.

She was resplendent in a cold shoulder, champagne colored dress, that cinched her waist, and flared over her hips, as it flowed freely down to her toes.

It was adorned with her favorite flowers, starting from her left hip, running diagonally across her stomach, under her right breast, all the way around her back and ending over her left breast.

Her hair was in a half up, half down style, with some left to hang strategically, on both sides of her lovely face.

Kurt had gone all out for his bestie, although the others helped. He completely transformed the yard. There were columns decorated with rolls of silk cloth and silk ribbons, pitchers of lilacs, fairy lights, matching the colors of the leaves on the trees and a wedding arch, that would make the Queen of England, jealous.

The groom stood under the arch, with a sweet smile on his handsome face. He was the epitome of sexy, dressed in khaki slacks, white button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled just below his elbows, pale blue tie and a waistcoat matching the color of his slacks.

Flanking him, were his father and brother, both holding the title of best-man.

* * *

In attendance, besides the immediate family of both the bride and groom, sat friends and well-wishers.

The chief of police, Marcy...who sat with a proud look on her face, Charlie...who was sitting beside Mary, both crying, Sam's band and their families and many others.

Also in attendance, was M.J's other hero, Seiko. He sat at the front of everyone, looking as if he belonged there, clad in a pale blue bowtie, resembling the one Sam was wearing.

* * *

Of all the people there, one in particular, represented a past, a present and a future, cemented in a bond, that would never be broken…Katie.

When she heard what had happened, she was devastated, and memories, she thought she had successfully buried, resurrected, bringing with them, constant nightmares.

It took M.J speaking to her, sometimes for hours on end, and assuring her, that they were both okay and the monsters were never going to see the light of day again, for her to come out of it.

The news of her heroine getting married, brought happiness to her and she vowed to be in attendance. She kept her word and she was welcomed into M.J's and Sam's circle, as if she was one of them. She was currently sitting, with the biggest smile on her pretty features, as she watched her dearest friend, walk towards her future.

Another surprise, was Det. Fabray.

She was one of the first people, besides Katie, from M.J's past, to contact her and offer comfort. She was delighted to hear M.J was getting married, and cleared her schedule to attend. She, too, was sitting, looking like a magazine model, with a sweet, smile on her face.

* * *

The minute Burt handed M.J over to Sam, the two got lost in a world of their own. It was a miracle, the two, heard anything the minister was saying.

The ceremony went on, and it was so beautiful, not a dry eye was seen.

Sam's green eyes, swept M.J's face, holding her gaze, and wishing for the ceremony to end.

After a while, it was time to kiss the bride, and he didn't disappoint. He claimed her lips, working them with his own, in a sensual dance, only the two of them knew.

Applause from those in attendance, caused him to break the kiss, but his eyes held a promise of more, when he got her alone.

* * *

The couple were congratulated, and hugged, numerous times, as they made their way around the garden, chatting and taking photos.

After a while, the two opted to go bare feet, causing a chain reaction with most of their guests, who decided to do the same.

* * *

Under a huge tent on the other side of the house, the couple and their guests, were wined and dined, until it was time for them to go. An impatient Sam, wanted to leave and be with his new wife, who seemed to be dancing with everyone, males and females alike.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he went over to her, firmly grasped her hand and removed her from dancing with Noah, with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Time to go, Mrs. Evans. Noah." A grinning Noah bowed and said,

"Geez Evans, could you be more obvious?"

Sam gave him the finger and continued walking, with his wife's hand in his. Noah's laughter could be heard, bringing a smile to Sam's face.

"Slow down Sam. My legs are not as long as yours," M.J said, struggling to match his stride.

"I'm sorry, baby," he started. "But…I just…everyone wants a piece of you, and I can't take it anymore."

M.J stopped, halting him in the process. She looked at him, her face softening. She reached up a hand and placed it on his cheek, caressing it.

"Sam, those people…tonight…is just temporary. We have forever to be dancing, chatting and doing other things together. They're our family and friends, and they're just happy for us. I enjoyed their company and their attention, but…I know before the night is over, I'll enjoy yours more. I love you, baby."

Sam, placed a small kiss on her palm and pulled her into his arms.

"I love you more, baby," he said and kissed the top of her head. They stood like that for another minute and then headed out.

* * *

That night, Sam took his time undressing his wife, and helping her into the tub, to have a relaxing bath. He joined her after a few minutes and the two took turns, bathing each other.

* * *

Later, M.J was decked out in a see-through, red, lace, baby-doll teddy, tied at the breasts with a silk ribbon, and matching panties, that left nothing to the imagination.

Sam, clad only in red silk boxers, almost dropped the glass of wine he was holding, when he saw her.

In seconds, the wine was forgotten and M.J was in his arms, with his mouth on hers. He pulled back after a while and asked,

"Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He took her mouth again, rougher than before. He walked her to the bed, not once breaking the kiss and only stopped to help her onto it.

He placed his long frame on her short one and plundered her mouth again. His kisses moved to her neck, where he nipped and sucked, marking his territory.

* * *

Minutes later, he moved to the center of the headboard and beckoned her to him. She readily complied and straddled his hips. Immediately, his hands went to her breasts, making them pebble and stand at attention.

He replaced them quickly, with his warm mouth, as he latched onto a stiff nipple and suckled it greedily. When her hips started to gyrate, he released her breast and swore.

His eyes snapped to hers, and they darkened immediately at the sight of hers. He grabbed her hips, stilling them, feeling the heat from her core and the wetness of her underwear, directly on his painfully hard, penis.

"God. What are you trying to do to me, baby?" Her response was to roll her hips into him, making him hiss and tighten his grip on her.

"You like to play? Let's play," he said.

* * *

M.J shivered at his tone. This is the first time she's ever heard it. The implications were written clearly on his face, and it made her scared, but excited.

"Ready when you a…"

She didn't get any further. Her back was on the bed and in a flash, her pretty lingerie was in pieces on the floor, or wherever. His mouth was on her breast again and his fingers were in her soaked channel.

He lifted his head, to look at her and she physically shivered.

She missed his fingers, the minute he removed them, and watched in awe as he licked them clean. A tearing sound caught her attention, and she saw what's left of his boxers, sailing across the room.

She dared not look at his shaft, for fear of its size and girth, when he was completely aroused, as he was now.

* * *

His entry was swift, and for a fraction of time, she felt pain.

He started moving at once, finding his rhythm, as he pushed in and out of her.

A while later, his actions sped up. He dropped his hips completely, and pinned her arms on either side of her head.

She felt so good, she lifted her legs and widened them, bringing a host of curse words from his lips and him, deeper into her body.

His hips went into overdrive at that moment, making his thrusts harder, faster and deeper. He definitely wasn't playing.

She felt him make a shift, bringing his hand under her generous ass and lifting it to meet his hard thrusts.

"Oh God…Sam."

"Yes, baby."

"Too…much."

"No…you can handle it…"

At that, he drove harder, faster and deeper into her, drilling her to the bed.

Her cries of release, triggered his own, and after a few frantic thrusts, he released, long and low and it echoed loudly around the quiet room.

They lay in a sweaty heap together, for a while, catching their breaths and gathering strength, both knowing, it was going to be a very long night.

* * *

 **Nine months, one week and four days later;**

Sam and Mercedes welcomed twin boys into the world, on a hot, sticky night in July. The two boys, looked exactly like Sam, only with slightly darker skin tones and darker hair.

They created a stir at the hospital, with everyone visiting, hoping to get a glimpse of them. Of course, her family and Sam's family were there, and were the first to be allowed in.

So many pictures were taken of the kids. And whoever came in, wanted to take a photo. Kurt volunteered himself and Blaine to be their god-fathers, whilst Tina and Santana did the same, as honorary god-mothers. No one was happier or prouder, than their parents.

* * *

 **Two years later.**

The twins, Ezekiel and Elijah, were having a sleepover with their grandparents, their aunt and uncle.

Mercedes, found it hard to part with them, but knew they were in great hands.

Sam and his band were playing at the bar, and M.J, for the first time since the twins arrived, decided to go and support him.

She got the surprise of her life, when Sam stepped to the mike, after the band's first set and said,

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for you. My beautiful wife Mercedes will now come on stage and wow you with her amazing voice."

Suddenly, a spotlight landed on her, and the bar erupted in applause.

A smiling Noah, moved towards her, and escorted her to the stage, where her husband was waiting for her.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a look, that said, he was in trouble. He, however, took her hand, kissed her lips and quietly said,

"I know, baby. But you love me and I love you…Zeke and Eli need their dad…remember that."

At that, she took the mike and belted out _Natural Woman,_ to the delight of the crowded bar. After that, the patrons, requested song after song, for her to sing and she remembered, why she loved singing.

* * *

 **That's it for this story. I hope you have enjoyed it, as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I'm a bit sad that it's finished, but I invite you to take a look at my other Samcedes stories. Thank you guys. Much love to you.**


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